


Heaven works on borrowed time (walk alone)

by mahkent



Series: Life's so reckless, tragedy endless, welcome to the family [1]
Category: Everyman HYBRID
Genre: Animalization, Dehumanization, Gen, HABIT's bullshit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-21 23:10:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 20,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15568431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mahkent/pseuds/mahkent
Summary: HABIT leaves him a note.HAVE FUN WITH YOUR NEW PET :D, it says.





	1. HAVE FUN WITH YOUR NEW PET :D

HABIT leaves him a note. _HAVE FUN WITH YOUR NEW PET :D_ , it says, taped to his camera with purple tape. Vinny doesn't know what 'pet' means. Any of the cats hanging around have since been killed and eaten by HABIT. He can't imagine HABIT would genuinely give him any sort of pet that would ever give him joy. 

He stands, picking up the camera and turning it on. Evan, he knows, was here yesterday- _himself_ , talking and laughing and acting how Evan always does. Slightly paranoid now, but himself nonetheless. He's hoping Evan is still here. He doesn't want to deal with HABIT now, or ever, really.

"Evan?" He calls. Distantly he hears the jangle of what sounds like a dog collar, closer and closer until Evan-

Evan comes loping up the stairs, stopping in front of him. Vinny knows something is wrong; Evan's on all fours, staring up at him with empty eyes as if he's not all there right now. When Vinny kneels in front of him he shuffles forward, bumping his head into Vin's shoulder- like a dog. 

Like a dog. HABIT can't change Evan's thought processes like this, can he? It's entirely possible, but... Vinny doesn't want it to be true. He doesn't want it to be true as he puts a hand on Evan's shoulder to still him, then lifts his hand and pushes Evan's chin up. 

A purple collar is fastened around his neck. There's no clip- HABIT changed it. He can't get it off of Evan, most likely. The tag dangling from the front is engraved with the text _IF LOST RETURN TO VINNY_. 

Evan (his new pet, apparently, more of a dog than his old friend) sits in front of him still, head canted to the side. His smile is crooked, a bit open to show his sharpened teeth and tongue. Vinny doesn't really know what to do until Evan rocks forward on his haunches, pushing his head into Vinny's shoulder. 

"Okay, okay," He mutters. Evan's hair is long and shaggy, and as much as it unsettles him Vinny can't help but run his fingers through it. Petting Evan is nice, even if he hates treating his friend like this, like he isn't a person. Evan, though, seems to enjoy the touches, rumbling in his chest imitating a dark purr. 

Eventually he finds himself unable to continue. It feels so _wrong_ , so awful to be doing this to his friend. Evan isn't a dog, he's Vinny's only living friend- and HABIT took that away from him. From them, since Evan's the one who looks a little bit upset that he's not still being petted. 

Vinny stands, realizing that he should eat something before HABIT comes back in whatever body he wants now that Evan's like this. It then occurs to him that he has to feed Evan. It's become evident just in how Evan follows him, not saying a word or indicating any form of intelligence, that HABIT really has altered this into an owner-pet situation. 

It disgusts him. The fact that Evan can be taken away like this, trapped within his mind within a dog’s mind. The fact that HABIT expects - knows - that Vinny can't do anything but continue with what HABIT wants. He won't let Evan suffer, inhibited mind or not, and he isn't willing to lose the last remnant of his former life. 

Evan doesn't understand any of this right now, though, Vinny knows. He's just sitting there staring at Vinny with a blankly happy expression. He's just happy to see Vinny, his only friend - how does he see Vinny right now? His owner? Do dogs understand the concept of owners, or does Evan just understand that Vinny's his best friend? - and now his caretaker. He probably doesn't even understand that, though; he follows Vinny down the stairs, still on all fours.

Vinny finds himself suddenly lonely, as he heads to the kitchen. The cupboards and fridge are fully stocked, albeit with whatever HABIT finds enticing when he goes to the store- usually lots of meat, raw and bloody, sometimes snack cakes with appealing boxes. Never any healthy food. There is, however, a large bag of dog food sitting on the counter. Next to it sits two dog bowls, a bag of treats - Evan isn't a _dog_ , Vinny mutters to the camera - and a leash. A bag sits there, as well, filled with all sorts of toys and things that Vinny doesn't care to look at right now.

Vinny hates it. He hates how Evan sits up, sticking his face up to the counter. Hates how he can hear Evan sniffing. Hates how he _knows_ HABIT has full control over how much Evan can think right now. Evan might not even be able to think- maybe he's not locked away, being forced to watch, maybe he's just been destroyed for the time being. Just a dog, not truly cognizant of much beyond the simple existence of Vinny and food.

Another note sits on the counter. HABIT's harsh handwriting again, purple ink saying _I'LL KNOW IF YOU FEED EVAN ANYTHING THAT ISN'T HIS PET FOOD. TREAT YOUR PET GOOD :D HE'S RELYING ON YOU!_ It's short, but Vinny can't help but growl at it. He puts the camera down on a counter where it can see everything and shoves the bowls onto the floor in a fit of frustration-

He stops when he hears Evan whimper. _Whimper_ , upset that Vinny's upset without understanding why. HABIT took _everything_ from them. Vinny hates having to just exist here and register it all. The fact that he's absolutely going to just continue with his day, vlogging his menial life of waiting on HABIT and watching his best friend be debased like this. 

Vinny's so, so tired. He's tired of HABIT controlling them, he's tired of HABIT being able to do this and not have any repercussions. Vinny can't do a damn thing about any of it- he can't do anything but make fucking videos. He doesn't even want to upload this one, any of the footage of Evan like this. He doesn't want to show the viewers how sick he is about this. 

He doesn't want to show the viewers any of this, so he sits on the couch filming something else once he's made himself a sandwich and pouring fucking kibble and water into the dishes HABIT bought. Evan, after simply sniffing the food, has his head resting against Vinny’s thigh and he seems to be watching the television despite likely not understand a damn word he hears.

The recording is morose. He doesn’t want to explain anything, there’s nothing to _explain_ that the viewers need to know, but he sits and talks anyway. 

“Hey, guys… this is Vinny. Uh-” He looks down at Evan, who he’s hidden from the camera’s view. He doesn’t know what to say. It’s not his place to explain that Evan’s like this, and he doesn’t want to anyway. A few seconds pass before he continues speaking. 

“The past few weeks, not much has happened. Um… Evan’s fine. HABIT hasn’t, hasn’t messed up a lot. It’s just been... been quiet. I don’t have much to say other than that. I’m sure HABIT’s planning something, or he’s going to come through that fucking door and make me go somewhere.”

He breathes, looking down at Evan again. At this point his friend (pet? His _friend_ ) has fallen asleep, and doesn’t react when Vinny runs a hand over his hair. The words aren’t coming to him right now- what does he say? What could he say to ever make any of this make sense?

“But, uhm… yeah. I’ve just been waiting. It’s horrible. I hate not being able to do anything about this. I don’t know what else to say. I just want this all to be over.” He stops the video there. What can he say? 

There’s nothing to say. He doesn’t want to upload this, it feels weak, but he can’t show them anything else. It’d be too weird, too demeaning to show him playing with Evan like he would with a dog. It’s too gut-wrenching to think of telling thousands, millions of unknown people any of it.

It’s tearing him apart how he can’t do anything but film.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> self-indulgent AU. trying to focus more on Vinny and how he's been utterly destroyed by all of this while juxtaposing it with Evan's blissful, ignorant happiness as HABIT messes with his head like this. i do enjoy them as a somewhat non-platonic relationship but it felt mad gross to tag that when Evan's mentally indisposed like this.
> 
> there'll be more chapters. additionally, the title again is from an Avenged Sevenfold song, this time from "Fermi Paradox".


	2. Evan's just a dog.

Vinny crawls into bed exhausted, terrified, and confused. Evan curls up by his side, a warm presence that shifts a few times before he settles down. Even once Evan is fast asleep, Vinny cannot help but stare up at the ceiling and think. The popcorn on the ceiling warps in the dark, creating blurry images.

Vinny, though, isn’t thinking about the shapes. He’s thinking about what he does now. HABIT recently has begun spending more and more time away from the house, only sending one of his people in to leave food every so often. Vinny therefore expects that Evan will be like this for a while.

What does this mean for them? He can’t imagine having to handle Evan like this for a prolonged period of time- he’s already enraged at the collar, the bowls, the bag of toys he didn’t really look through. What does he do when Evan inevitably wants to play? The guy seems to be full animal, a playful labrador at best. Does he have to take Evan out, will HABIT let them out? 

What happens now? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t understand what HABIT’s goal is beyond messing with both of them. Vinny knows he’ll record it all, like he always does, and HABIT will see it even if he doesn’t - he _won’t_ \- upload it to the channel. Does it just want to get its rocks off to Vinny suffering like this?

Vinny, despite his racing thoughts, does eventually fall asleep. Fitfully, plagued by nightmares. The terror of HABIT being able to control everyone and destroy everyone Vinny ever loved, controlling their lives through every step.

He’s woken by two hands slamming onto his chest. Sitting up, shouting in alarm, he’s faced with a confusing sight- Evan. Evan, crouching in front of him, with his arms in front of him and a toy in his mouth. He can hear Evan’s excited noises, little huffs of almost-laughs.

HABIT, HABIT, HABIT keeps making it worse. Evan’s just a dog. A dog who’s grinning around the toy (some stupid tug-of-rope toy) in his mouth and shaking it a little. A glance at the clock confirms Vinny’s suspicions. It’s early, a little after six in the morning, but Vinny had a dog when he was a kid. He knows they don’t give a fuck about human’s schedules. 

Vinny doesn’t want to play. He doesn’t want to give in like this, to give in to the concept - the fact - of Evan being like this. If he treats Evan like a dog HABIT will get so much more joy out of this, out of them. He’ll be torn apart even further and he’ll have to show Evan when, if, he ever returns to normal that he willingly did this.

It’s early, he’s terrified and frustrated, but he reaches out for his camera (it doesn’t need charging anymore, evidently, so he keeps it on in the night as well as all day) and points it at Evan. Evan tilts his head, chuffing again, shaking the toy back and forth.

Then Vinny reaches out for the toy. He gives in, and feels sick even as he grabs the end of the rope and tugs it out of Evan’s mouth. It does warm his heart to see Evan so simply, utterly happy; he makes a noise almost like a bark, and bounces back and forth on the bed.

Vinny tosses it out into the hall. As Evan runs after it, human legs and arms making his quadrupedal run awkward at best, he stands. There’s no point in getting dressed when he’s just going to be filming for no reason and playing with Evan. He heads to the kitchen first, finding Evan walking after him with the toy in his mouth again. 

“Wait a sec, Ev,” He murmurs. Evan follows him still, bumping against his legs clumsily. Vinny finds himself falling into what must be their new routine. Cereal for himself, kibble for Evan. 

Kibble for Evan. He tries not to think about it as he eats his cereal, but he keeps looking over. Evan doesn’t think anything of crouching in front of the bowl, eating how a dog would, but he doesn’t think anything at all as far as Vinny can tell.

Vinny starts talking, without really meaning to. He doesn’t know if he’s talking to Evan, the camera, or to himself, but eventually he settles on staring down at Evan who stares back blankly between bites. “I don’t know what to do. You can’t… you can’t think, can you?”

Evan huffs from his nose, moving away from the bowl and towards Vinny. He picks up a different toy from where they’re strewn across the ground - he must have knocked the bag over before Vinny was woken up - and drops it in front of Vinny’s feet. 

“C’mon, Ev. You aren’t- you aren’t a dog. You’re Evan. My friend, a person-” Vinny finds his words mean nothing to Evan, who just stares up with wide and empty eyes. 

“Evan.” Begging, pleading with a person who isn’t capable of understanding anymore. Might not ever be able to understand again, unless HABIT becomes bored of this. “Evan, please… please just say something. You aren’t a dog!”

His agitation gets nowhere with Evan. If anything, it only manages to push him into something even simpler as Evan makes a little _urf_ sound, bumping his face into Vinny’s legs a few times.

Evan doesn’t understand, he won’t understand. He can’t. Vinny understands it all. He still has to deal with it without losing his mind even more. Eventually he’ll give in, he knows; he just can’t let HABIT see him agonizing over this. Quickly, he decides to simply give in. It’s easier and they’ll both be less upset over it, really.

“Fine. Fine.” Slowly, he stands, looking forlornly down at Evan. He leans down to grab the toy - this time it's shaped like a bone, presumably to throw. Evan _urfs_ again, excited; Vinny finds himself almost excited, too, to play with Evan like this. They don't have fun anymore. They're both too broken for this type of thing, but… Evan can't consider his brokenness anymore. Evan can't consider how weird it is that he's chasing the bone that Vinny throws, bumping into chairs without caring. 

Vinny doesn't like this, doesn't believe that HABIT will ever fix Evan, but he knows he can't change it. It's not much of a consolation when he's beginning to enjoy this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not proofread. Vinny's getting used to this far too quickly for his liking and he hates it.


	3. He knows, somewhere deep in his mind, that dog is man’s best friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> forewarning: this chapter focuses on Evan, who’s currently in a dehumanized animalistic mindset and therefore is thinking in such a manner. this chapter also includes dubiously consensual kissing (as Evan can’t consent) and, due to the mindset, sort of bestiality. i’m not sure if it counts as bestiality but i saw fit to warn regardless because if you have to ask if it’s bestiality it’s probably not great.

He doesn't understand a lot, this he knows. Something tells him that he should understand more- the sounds, the smells, the sights of this place, so familiar yet so far away. He knows a few things, though; he knows he likes the toys that are still on the hard, cold floor, he knows he likes the food in his bowl, and he knows he likes the man who he lives with.

He knows the man is his friend. The man is tall and soft, dark eyes always sad and the sounds he makes always quiet. He understands that the man is upset when he barks, or when he tries to play, so he tries not to do either of those things. That, too, only makes the man upset. The only thing that doesn't upset the man is the black box he carries and when he lays beside the man, quiet and calm.

The man makes noises at him often. They never make much sense, making him think that the man is just babbling at him, but the noises seem to make the man less agitated. He just barks back, even when the man seems sad about it.

The man, admittedly, is often sad. He sits and remains listless for a long time, staring at the box and talking to it. Sometimes he’s just completely silent. Despite his best efforts, the man is most often in his bed, only staring when he tries to make the man do anything. He tries often, despite not wanting to upset the man. The man doesn’t like toys, he doesn’t like playing- what does he like, beyond the black box? Often the dog finds himself simply lying beside the man, looking into his sad, sad eyes. It’s only now, tonight in the dark with the man beside him, that he feels. He feels…

Something tells him that he used to be able to label this feeling. The man is sad, he knows, but he doesn’t think (he doesn’t _think_ ) he’s sad. He just doesn’t feel great, when the man is silent and staring at him as if he’s done something wrong. It’s worse when the man begins crying, those soft hands cradling his face and keeping him from turning his gaze away from the man. 

He should be upset, but he can’t think about anything except the fact that he wants to calm the man down. His first attempt- licking the man’s face, trying to wipe the tears away- only gets him a quiet frustrated _No, Evan_. He doesn’t know what _Evan_ means beyond a method of calling for him. _No_ , though, he gets. The man doesn’t want him to comfort him? Or is it just the licking? He stops, lips curling into a frown. The man laughs, crying still, pulling his head closer so their foreheads touch.

He knows, somewhere deep in his mind, that dog is man’s best friend. The man insists, though, that he’s not a dog. It doesn’t make much sense to him. It also doesn’t matter much to him; the man is laughing, face pressed close to his, smile wide and still sad but in a good way. He talks, murmuring things that he can’t understand for a while.

Then the man shifts his hands around his face. His face shifts closer until his lip touches his dog’s. The touch is weird, really- he isn’t sure he likes it (it’s something he’s seen on the box that lights up, two people putting their mouths together- two _people_ , not a man and his dog) and he quickly decides to put his front paws on the man’s chest and growl. It’s not good, he quickly finds he doesn’t even like it, and the man is doing it… why, exactly?

The man is confused, frowning as he growls. He gets up, sliding off the bed and landing on his paws. The door is closed. He can’t get out, so he’s forced to press himself into a corner, teeth bared and posture defensive. The man is upset. Very upset, and he has the gall to try and call for his dog.

These noises, he knows. He knows the man’s quiet call of _here, Evan, come here_. He doesn’t want to. He wants to go to his bed, a pile of blankets set on the floor in another room, but the man won’t open the door. He just keeps staring and trying to get his dog to come closer. 

Despite the man’s best efforts, they both fall asleep apart, his dog in the corner and the man still on the bed. The distance between them, while physically small, could never be larger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shorter chapter due to Dog-Evan being dumb as shit.
> 
> i had, at first, intended to keep some of Evan’s original personality, but then decided it was more interesting for him to be removed to a simpler mindset. it hurts Vinny more - which is what HABIT wants, keep in mind - when Evan isn’t anything like himself, especially since Vinny can’t treat Evan like he normally would. you wouldn’t treat a dog like your traumatized human friend, after all; it was also more interesting, writing from Evan-Dog’s viewpoint, if he saw everything in a new light. man’s best friend and all. 
> 
> (i do understand the moral questionability about Vinny kissing a mentally incapacitated Evan. in the scope of this fic’s world, though, Vinny still thinks of Evan as his best friend instead of a mental pet, y’know?)


	4. Hey, kiddies, I'm home!

It’s been a month since Evan was first put into this state of mind. A month of Vinny not having anyone to really talk to, a month of having to care for what amounted to an overly large dog. A month of Evan being affectionate in all the wrong ways, licking him and trying to play when Vinny really just wants his friend back, when he just wants HABIT to stop ruining Evan like this.

So he did fuck up. Vinny knows damn well he fucked up. Evan’s in no state of mind to consent, much less understand what kissing is, what it means. Vinny wasn’t thinking, for once- he was just thinking about how Evan was lying next to him, allowing Vinny to hold his face even as he licked (gross) Vinny, stopping when told.

So he did go too far. Evan was probably just trying to comfort him, and Vinny took it a step too far for his stupid dog. Consent. A dog. A sad, lonely, stupid man who wanted his friend locked away behind a dog’s eyes.

It’s been two days since Vinny kissed Evan, since Evan pushed him away and growled, curled into the corner in a defensive way. Utter confusion, anger; Vinny knew, staring at his friend with his shining eyes reflecting in a way that no human eye ever would, that he fucked up.

Fuck, fuck. Vinny kept the doors open after that night. He notices Evan intentionally avoiding him, loping out of the room when Vinny walks in. A camera HABIT set up in Evan’s room shows him that Evan’s begun hiding out there. The bed he has, really just a pile of blankets, is where he spends most of the day- the night is spent running around, eating the kibble Vinny leaves for him, and then he slinks back into the room to wait Vinny out.

Vinny hates himself for it. He hates himself for being like HABIT, doing something to Evan when the man (the dog) didn’t, couldn’t consent. Of course he knows he isn’t HABIT- in the grand scheme of things, he committed a social faux-paux, albeit with his dog-friend, which… might be worse than he wants to admit. 

Vinny knows HABIT is watching. He hasn’t posted a video since the one a month ago, but HABIT can undoubtedly see all of this, somehow. The bastard always does. 

The bastard sees, he knows, and he comes. Vinny’s sitting in the hall attempting to coax Evan out of his room when he hears the door open, and heavy bootsteps come up the stairs. The man HABIT is wearing this time is massive, a hulking wall of a man that looms over the crouching Vinny and the now cowering Evan.

“Hey, kiddies, I’m home!” He cries, still so animated. Both hands gesture broadly while Vinny’s are taken up by his camera, a constant comfort anymore. HABIT talks while he kneels in front of Evan, snapping his fingers. From his pocket he pulls a treat, some sort of biscuit. Evan still doesn’t step through the threshold of his room despite clearly wanting it.

“Have you been giving him treats, Vinny? Vinster, huh? Have you? He’s a good boy, aren’t you, doggy?” HABIT says, voice layered with that shitty demonic deepness, even as he snaps his fingers again and reaches out for Evan.

“N- no.” Is the only thing Vinny can say. The video continues going as HABIT drops the treat in front of Evan. Once the man (the dog, the man) kneels to take it in his mouth HABIT grabs him by the arms and pulls him closer. Evan struggles futilely; the man’s body is so much stronger than him.

“Why _not_? He’s a- hold still, you fucking mutt- perfectly fine dog, even if you confuse him for a fucking whore.” The words are careless, Vinny knows. It still stings, especially since HABIT is manhandling a clearly agitated Evan. Lifting him up to sit back on his haunches, holding one upper arm in one hand as his other rubs across Evan’s chest. _Good boy, good boy, aren’t you so good- perfect mutt,_ HABIT murmurs, quickly becoming bored of petting Evan and instead shoving him to the ground.

HABIT stands too quickly. Evan stays by his feet, chuffing in annoyance, but waits patiently anyway for HABIT to toss the bag of treats in his pocket down. With Evan occupied, HABIT turns to Vinny. “ _Answer me_.” he hisses, stepping towards Vinny.

“I- he’s not a dog.” Even to him he knows the statement is weak. HABIT just laughs, showing too many sharp teeth in his new suit’s mouth. 

“ _Not_ a _dog_? He begs to fuckin’ differ- look at him now!” A gesture towards Evan, lying on the floor with his nose shoved into the treat bag. HABIT laughs again, turning to kick Evan in the side. The whimper only seems to make him laugh more; as usual with the fucking lunatic, he suddenly switches moods entirely.

He steps towards Vinny, one hand clapping on his shoulder and holding tight. “Give me the camera, Vinny.” His voice is little more than a low growl. The concept of giving up his camera makes Vinny nauseous, but… what choice does he have? HABIT has full control over both him and Evan, and chances are if he tries to fight this he’ll never get Evan back. 

Maybe… maybe if HABIT’s allowed to do this, he’ll let Evan come back. Maybe, if, maybe, if. Thousands of what-if’s whirl in Vinny’s head as he silently hands the camera to him, eyes locked not on HABIT but on Evan, who’s taken his face out of the bag and is instead looking up with an expression that might be concern if he wasn’t so inhibited right now. 

“Good boy, Vinny!” HABIT cries, slapping his shoulder with far too much force. Vinny hates how he just stands there as HABIT walks out with the camera that contains every second of every day that Vinny’s had his new dog.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> good news: i forgot what pronouns i chose for HABIT! i, personally, go with “it” since HABIT is the furthest thing from a human and doesn’t want to be. though it’s a moot point in the terms of this fic, Evan uses “it” for HABIT out of hatred- Vinny though isn’t the type to call anyone “it”; ergo, in this fic any Vinny chapter will refer to HABIT with “he”.
> 
> anyway, i’m just pounding these bitches out. good times.


	5. NEW DOG

A video titled _NEW DOG_ appears on the channel shortly after HABIT leaves with his camera. The video is everything that Vinny didn’t want cut together; a chaotic mess of clips edited together relatively well, considering HABIT’s meagre skills. 

He watches it, naturally. The comments are all concerning but he can’t think about it when the content, he knows, will be horrible.

It starts with the clip of the first time Vinny saw Evan like this. The jangle of the collar echoing, edited to be louder than it was in actuality. A close up of the collar being clipped onto Evan’s neck. Then Vinny finding the bag of food, Evan following behind him on all fours, the footage appearing to be from a hidden camera in the corner of the room. Vinny’s outburst, Evan whimpering, then cutting to Vinny pouring kibble- a chronological retelling of Vinny’s nightmare, _NEW DOG_ puts it all into stark detail. Vinny’s outright lie to the camera as Evan sits by his lap, clear evidence that things did in fact happen.

The next clip is longer; two sets of footage are put side by side, one of Vinny standing in one room and one of the hallway. In Vinny’s hand is a toy, the small bone Evan enjoys more than any other, and he throws it. Evan runs after it, returning- a game of fetch. A man and his not-quite-dog, playing a game that both of them enjoy more than they really ought to. This footage stretches, ending with Vinny crouching and holding Evan’s face in his hands, saying some stupid shit like _you’re a good boy, good boy_. A man talking to his dog.

The footage after that is more contextless clips. Evan, eating from the bowl; Vinny, hosing Evan off outside in the small, closed-in yard they’re allowed to access; Vinny lying in bed for days, too depressed to do anything real even as Evan noses him, drops toys in front of him, and whines at him. Vinny, clipping a leash to the collar around Evan’s neck and leading him outside. 

As expected the video culminates with the footage of the late night. Evan crawling into the bed beside Vinny. Vinny crying, sobbing quietly as he holds Evan’s face, then kissing him. Evan squirming and growling, pushing him away, going into the corner. It’s all shot from a camera in the corner, showing Vinny’s fuck-up, his loss of control in objective detail.

Vinny can’t help but go down and read the comments. Everything from _is evan okay?_ to _this some kinky shit_ , but the fact that there are so many of them is the part that makes Vinny sick. So many different people saw this, saw how both of them are so broken and forever altered.

Vinny’s so absorbed in the comments, then rewatching the video to make sure he knows exactly what everyone else saw, that he doesn't hear the quiet footsteps coming up to him before Evan crawls up onto the couch beside him. The video plays yet, and Evan gets too close to Vinny to see it better. The qualms he had with Vinny after Vinny’s mistake are apparently gone. 

Whatever intelligence is left behind Evan’s eyes recognizes the danger of having this online. Having the fact that he's been treated like a dog, acted like a dog, _is_ a dog everywhere, a click away from every fan’s thoughts; it’s not a good thing. Even a dog could realize it.

Evan almost forms a word. Vinny wants to believe that, he hopes it dearly, but… he doesn't quite manage. It's more of _nrruhh_ than anything else, the frustrated noise of an animal. The frustration of the animal manifests suddenly in a loud bark, then him slamming the side of his head into Vinny’s chest. 

“Ow, Evan- look, it's fine. They've seen weirder.” He thinks it’s a weak comfort, but Evan stares at him with dark eyes, then whines softly. Nosing Vinny’s shoulder softly, he sits still as Vinny shuts the laptop. He only moves closer, laying his head and shoulders down in Vinny’s lap, when Vinny says _Evan, here_.

It’s weird how Vinny has become used to this. Evan, emoting in such a viscerally _wrong_ way, lying on his lap like a dog who doesn’t know he’s too big to do this anymore. Vinny, enjoying running his hand down his dog’s (his _friend’s_ ) back, enjoying the endless devotion and joy that he can get just from throwing a toy across the house.

The routine used to sicken Vinny, but he saw from the video how he became used to it. He began playing along, and now genuinely wants to. He enjoys having a pet, even if he isn’t quite used to the fact that it’s _Evan_ , it’s Evan’s body and his mind kept lashed back to something of pure joy and instinct. It’s Evan that curls up near him at night and Evan that crouches by the food bowl. It’s Evan who relies so fully on Vinny now that he can’t even feed or wash himself anymore. 

Of course, he still hates that HABIT has managed to push them both into this situation. Vinny, the owner, Evan, the dog. HABIT controlling them both from afar. Vinny is fairly convinced that HABIT’s still watching them- after all, _NEW DOG_ showed camera angles that wouldn’t be possible with Vinny’s camera.

He hates it, but he doesn’t hate this. The quiet moments when Evan’s acting a lap dog and listening to Vinny talk. The quiet moments when Vinny can run his hand down Evan’s broad back and pretend he’s a normal guy with a normal dog and a normal life. If anything, HABIT gave him a good thing- sure, it's horrifying when Vinny actually thinks about it, but he's recently learned from Evan the perks of blissful ignorance.

Such blissful ignorance that Evan seems to forget what he just saw on the computer. Undoubtedly he doesn't even understand what the computer is- he simply stands when he's tired of laying on Vinny, on fours as always, and trots to the back door. On the way he picks up something in his mouth. A ball, maybe, but Vinny doesn't really care. 

This part, Vinny always is worried about. The door sometimes doesn't open and Evan becomes agitated, or it does open and they can never trust what’s out there. They can never trust that they won't be attacked.

Luckily, this time the door opens to ‘their’ backyard. It's a field that stretches as far as the eyes can see, but when they tried to keep walking and leave they didn't seem to go anywhere, the house always staying in the same place. The size of it does allow Evan to run, expend some of his new boundless, joyful energy.

Evan drops the ball at Vinny’s feet. The sharp teeth he has now are fully visible when he ‘smiles’, his jaw hanging open. It’s only now that Vinny realizes that HABIT changed more than Evan’s teeth; his tongue is flat, lolling from his mouth in exactly the way a dog’s would. It’s likely he couldn’t even enunciate any words if he did want to speak. 

Concerned as he is about this development, Vinny still picks up the ball and throws it. As typical Evan bolts after it; he’s become used to the awkward loping of his human body in this type of run, and is almost scarily fast.

A game of fetch. Again and again, Vinny knows HABIT sees all of this. Vinny winds up having more fun than he thinks he should, even now. It’s nice to have a pet he can just have fun with. Evan, running back and forth, doing that dog thing where he won’t let go of the ball until Vinny asks several times, Vinny eventually dropping the ball and getting down to wrestle Evan.

It makes him think of how they used to joke around. When they were much younger, just little kids wrestling on the living room floor. Invariably Evan would win. He was always stronger, even though he was always smaller, and would sit on Vinny’s chest and laugh at him.

It’s different now. Evan’s panting, sometimes barking- actually barking, Vinny won’t ever get used to that sound coming from his friend- sometimes whining. Vinny knows enough about how dogs act to know that Evan’s still having fun with this. He never does manage to overpower Vinny. This, he suspects, is because Evan doesn’t want to hurt Vinny. 

Eventually Evan tires of the playing. Finally, he pushes Vinny over, flopping onto his chest and making that quiet _urf_ sound that Vinny thinks indicates contentment. The grass is cool on their skin, the sun’s heat is broken up by a few clouds, and HABIT isn’t bothering them.

Vinny looks down at Evan, threading his fingers through the long, messy hair that Evan has. It feels so normal, right now. Laying with his friend outside like they used to, staring up at the sky. 

If it weren’t for the fact that Evan can’t talk, this would be perfect. As is though it’s simply Vinny talking to - at? - his friend, his pet. He doesn’t talk about anything important, really. He just talks, the subject floating from editing videos to their time as kids, even to more personal things. How he feels. He knows logically that Evan can’t understand him. He knows, logically, that Evan’s little snuffles and _urfs_ aren’t truly in reply to what he’s saying. It still makes him happy that his life is so close to being normal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> flying by the seat of my pants with this fic but i like writing this so it's fine, really. 
> 
> i'm enjoying exploring how Vinny's getting far too used to seeing Evan as an animal. he's somewhere in between wanting Evan-Evan back and fully accepting Dog-Evan as a permanent reality. behind all of this HABIT is having a whale of a time watching the both of them suffer (though Dog-Evan doesn't have enough of his mind left to realize that he is being treated poorly.)


	6. good boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for more quasi-bordering-on zoophilia. Vinny struggles with reconciling Evan's existence as a dog with his feelings for Evan as a man.

Vinny’s been dreading this next task. It isn’t so much a task as a basic requirement of owning a pet- bathing him. The dog he had when he was little didn’t mind being bathed. Evan, with his human mind, never enjoyed it to Vinny’s knowledge but did it anyway. Evan now, though…?

It’s only pressing now that Evan got into mud outside. Before he could simply be hosed off, a simple task. Evan didn’t mind the hose; if anything, he thought it was just a fun game. The tub, though? The tub is a small and enclosed space. As a dog or as a human, Evan was never a fan of enclosed spaces.

“Come, Ev.” He calls. That collar jangles as Evan comes down the hall. He trots after Vinny, still smiling in that dopey dog way. The bathroom seems to confuse him more than anything else. Vinny hasn’t shown him the bathroom on purpose, since it’s not something that Evan needs to know about. 

The first order of business is getting the clothes Evan’s wearing off. The shirt first, the logo of some metal band emblazoned across it, is easy. Evan just sits back on his haunches as Vinny pulls it off. The pants are more difficult. Evan can’t stand up (or won’t? Vinny’s only seen him on all fours, for a long time) so he can’t simply pull them off that way. After a moment or two of consideration, Vinny simply decides to start and see what happens from there.

Of course, it’s unpleasant to be stripping his best friend. He knows, he knows so well that it’s necessary. Evan can’t do it himself. It doesn’t make it any less weird to unbuckle Evan’s pants, then slide them down his hips- does he have to take the underwear off, too? He stops with the pants just under Evan’s hips, head tilted.

“Sorry, man…” Vinny mutters. Evan doesn’t understand what’s going on, he’s sure of it. He still remains still and patient as Vinny slips his thumb into the waistband of Evan’s underwear. He doesn’t look as he pulls both the underwear and the pants down to Evan’s knees.

“Lift your knees up, Ev.” He doesn’t expect Evan to understand him, so he taps the side of Evan’s knee until he lifts it, and pulls both clothing items down. He repeats it on the other side, then pulls both off. 

With Evan naked except for his collar, he taps the side of the tub, then points at the inside of it. “Up-up.” Evan leans forward to sniff it. It's a natural reaction, but it isn't the one Vinny needs. He taps the inside of the tub, this time. All it gets him is a puzzled _rrr_.

“Ev, c’mon. It’s fine. You just need to get cleaned.” It’s clear to him that Evan doesn’t trust the tub, but he clambers over the side anyway when Vinny taps it again. 

Evan crouches in the middle of the tub, looking at Vinny, then lowering his head to sniff the drain. With Evan distracted Vinny can get the showerhead; he allows it to hang where Evan can sniff it, acclimating him to it, while Vinny then gets the soap and shampoo. He isn't sure if HABIT wants him to use dog shampoo. There's none in the cabinets, and Evan physically isn't a _dog_ , so it wouldn't make much sense to use it.

He comes back to find Evan still standing in the middle of the tub. Without thinking about it, his eyes trail over Evan's body. Strong, thickly muscled, old scars faded from age and from HABIT’s possession of his body. The thick pink scar from being disemboweled shines on his lower stomach. Beyond that, Vinny sees that Evan’s still a very handsome man (dog, he warns himself); his hair hangs in front of his face, long and unkempt, his body is beautiful. Vinny’s eyes trail downward before he forces himself to remember that Evan’s a dog right now. Lusting after him won't go anywhere, and it's just fucking weird.

Focusing on his task is more difficult than expected. He turns the shower head away from Evan and slowly turns the handle to turn it on. The water dribbling from it, naturally, startled Evan just enough. He pushes his face forward to nose the water; when his nose gets wet, he whimpers and shifts away from it.

“Evan, stay.” He doesn't. He tries to scramble out of the tub, whining as the showerhead continues burbling water at him. “Ev, Ev- it's fine, it's just water. It's fine-” Vinny tries, but Evan slides out of the tub anyway, bumping his face against Vinny. Those sharp teeth nip at his arm. 

“Ev, _no_. No biting. Back in the tub.” He already can tell he won't get anywhere with this as is. The shower isn't even fully on, and Evan’s hemming and hawing on the bathroom rug, rubbing his nose into it to dry it.

Vinny didn't want to do this, but he knew deep down that he'd have to. Quickly, he sheds his own shirt and pants, leaving him in only loose boxers and his undershirt. This gets Evan’s attention. As Vinny steps into the shower himself, Evan peers into the tub, making that little curious _rrf_ sound that he does. 

“Look, it's fine. Come here, Ev, it's just water.” He grabs the showerhead. Slowly, he puts his hand under it. He figures Evan just doesn't know what it is, or if he can trust it- hopefully this will do something.

It takes a minute or two for Evan to consider it. Eventually he seems to decide that if Vinny’s fine with it, he should be too. A quiet _rff_ precedes him crawling back into the tub. He faces Vinny, eyes wide and curious, head canted to the side. Vinny has to reach over him to slowly turn the water on fully. 

As Vinny anticipated, the sudden increase water pressure has him alarmed. A simple mind with simple fears- Evan yelps, skittering back from the water even though it's currently spraying Vinny’s legs rather than him. The raw terror in his eyes makes Vinny sad, really. Seeing his friend scared of something as innocent as this is just depressing.

“Evan, it's still just water. Look-” He puts his hand under the spray again, this time to test the temperature. Evan inches forward in the tub until he can press his forehead against Vinny’s shoulder like he likes to. His free hand goes to press into the small of Evan’s back, trying to make him sit; it's easier that way. He doesn't want to have to manhandle his dog- Evan, especially since Evan’s stronger than him anyway.

The first test is getting Evan properly wet. With Evan sitting, Vinny can grab one of his hands and lift it, putting it under the spray. The mud and various… substances that Evan's stepped in wash away with the water, leaving him to wonder at the sensation. Once Vinny’s fairly sure he's acclimated (he's not visibly scared anymore, and leans down to bite at the water) he moves upward. Up the arm, then hovering over his back. 

Vinny keeps the water running, ensuring that Evan knows it's not a bad thing, before he tries to get Evan’s head wet. He knows from the past that Evan always hated his head being messed with, physically speaking. The hat was a way to keep people from messing with his hair, and he got violently defensive when anyone tried to do the short ‘use Evan as an armrest’ joke. A few minutes pass before Vinny raises his other hand, holding the back of Evan's neck still.

This results in a low growl. Vinny just murmurs _you’re okay, I'm safe_ before he starts slowly moving the showerhead up Evan’s spine. Rivulets of water runs down him even as he begins to shift, lifting his hands and putting them back down in frustration.

Vinny still soldiers on. He settles the spray above the crown of Evan’s head, keeping it further way so it doesn't hurt. Quickly, Evan’s hair clumps together into glossy strands, hanging heavy in front of his eyes. Vinny brushes it back so Evan can see. 

Evan seems to be annoyed. His eyes and face don't emote like they used to, but he's clearly frowning and is making quiet huffing sounds now and again. It's only when Vinny begins running his fingers through Evan’s long hair that he accepts the situation. At the very least, he stops moving as much, instead looking at Vinny with narrowed eyes.

The shampoo is the next step. As with the showerhead, he holds the bottle out to Evan. More sniffing, then his nose pressed into the lid. Evan wants him to open it? It's so hard to figure out what Evan wants unless he drops it in front of him. Still, Vinny clicks open the lid, holding it for Evan to sniff a few more times. 

Then he lifts it. His other hand slides from Evan’s neck to his jaw, holding his head still while he pours shampoo. The sensation has Evan trying to shake his head, then move closer to Vinny and bump his head into his chest. This gesture Vinny believes to be a way of getting attention; compounded with Evan’s quiet whine, it's clear he doesn't like this part, either.

“Ev, you're fine. It's shampoo.” He says, for no real reason but to feel like Evan understands this. Lifting both hands to Evan's long hair, he begins lathering, talking quietly about nothing. As far as he can tell, Evan likes when he talks. He doesn't say much of anything as he runs his fingers through Evan’s hair.

It's nice hair. Before, he sometimes found himself looking at it, when Evan first began it growing out. He wanted to touch it, see how Evan reacted, wanted to play with it-

But now, he doesn't enjoy it as much as he would. He knows damn well that it has everything to do with Evan's state of mind right now. It has everything to do with how Evan’s started trying to lean back away from his touch, away from the shampoo that he probably doesn't even understand.

Vinny figures Evan doesn't understand a lot anymore. The world is a big place, and even the house they're restricted too has a lot of things that require genuine explanations to understand. For instance, Vinny wants so badly to explain that he's trying to help Evan and this isn't meant to hurt him, but Evan undoubtedly just hears noises and feels the foam sluicing down his back. Evan’s world undoubtedly is restricted to the house, the few items he understands in it, and Vinny. It's a sad thought. 

Vinny raises the showerhead again to wash the shampoo away. Evan, this time, shakes- he shakes himself off. _Fuck_ , Vinny mutters, dropping the showerhead to grab Evan’s broad shoulders. He intentionally didn't close the shower curtain, because he's an idiot who didn't want to make Evan feel crowded- but now the bathroom is covered in water. It's probably fine, he thinks, but he has to scold Evan anyway.

“No. No shaking, Evan.” He keeps his hold on Evan's shoulders, making his voice more forceful. It still feels really weird to have to scold Evan like this. It doesn’t happen often, since Evan isn’t actually _that_ bad of a dog, really. It just doesn’t feel right to treat his friend like this.

Evan _hrffs_ , leaning forward to bump his head into Vinny’s shoulder. This time, Vinny just sighs and runs his hand over the soaking wet hair. “You’re fine. Just let me- soap, right?” He figured body wash would work better, as Evan now is somewhat familiar with shampoo. 

This part, Evan doesn’t like. “Evan, man- Christ, c’mon.” Vinny says as Evan shifts and whines. The rag runs over Evan’s skin smoothly, the soap on it wiping away any dirt or long-dried blood. The feeling of the rag over him has Evan staring up at Vinny. He whines more, more insistently; this close Vinny can see something even more concerning than the simple existence of a man and his dog.

Evan’s open mouth shows not only the flat tongue Vinny noticed, but his teeth. The teeth that currently look sharper and more dog-like than they should. Long canines, small, pointed incisors. Vinny grabs Evan’s jaw to look closer; in the back his teeth are the pointed, odd molars of a dogs. A few are missing in the back of the right half of his jaw.

“Oh, Ev..." He whispers. Evan doesn’t understand, he can tell by the empty look in his eyes. And why would Evan ever need to understand this situation? It’d just make his simple, blissful existence so much worse. 

Evan _urfs_ at him. Confused, curious; he doesn’t know why Vinny’s upset. He just rears up onto his back legs (his legs, Vinny has to remind himself) and puts his arms over Vinny’s shoulders. That flat tongue licks at Vinny’s face, wet from Evan shaking. It’s nice to have someone so eager to make him feel better.

“Ev, man. It’s fine. Just let me clean you, okay?” He already washed Evan’s arms, and quickly gets started on his back, chest, and legs. It’s easy to keep Evan still now that he slides out of his grasp, putting one hand on the small of his back to keep him still.

There’s one section left now that they’ve gotten into a rhythm-

Oh, god, Vinny doesn't want to deal with this part. Evan is standing still and is allowing him to clean, but… genitals are private. Evan can't consent to being touched like this, even if it's innocent, even if he doesn't understand the concept of consent and doesn't give a shit about anything like this.

Even if Evan’s vagina is really, really-

Off limits. It's off limits because, for all realistic intents and purposes, it's an animal vagina. Evan can't consent. He _can’t_ , as much as Vinny keeps forgetting. As much as Vinny keeps having to remind himself that Evan is his pet, now, a pet that relies on him and trusts him completely, he can't exploit that trust. 

So he acts quickly and efficiently. He doesn't touch for longer than necessary, just wipes the thing off while his eyes are locked on Evan’s face. If anything, Evan seems confused about this part; he makes a few quiet sounds and tilts his head, sopping hair framing his face. 

“Okay, done. Stay here for a second, man.” Vinny stands. He’s wet too, mostly on his hands and legs where the spray or the runoff got him, as well as where Evan touched him. He’s more focused, though, on towelling Evan off before he shakes. 

Evan crawls out of the tub anyway, despite being told to stay. Vinny only realizes this when he turns around, towel in hand, and finds Evan pressing against his legs. Frankly he’s too tired to really fight this. He kneels instead, wrapping the threadbare towel around his shoulders and drawing it up to dry his hair.

Evan evidently believes this is fun. He shifts closer, barking a few times, bouncing back and forth until Vinny grabs one of his shoulders. It’s an easy process after that to dry Evan. He doesn’t have any fur, after all, and he’s a smaller man anyway. After Evan’s dry, Vinny towels himself off. 

“Okay, Ev. Stay.” He doesn’t expect that to work. It never does unless he gives Evan a distraction, so when he walks towards Evan’s bedroom, he isn’t surprised to hear the jangle of the collar behind him.

The process of dressing Evan again isn’t really necessary for anything but Vinny’s comfortableness. He doesn’t want to interact with a nude Evan; it’s just _weird_ , even if the common dog doesn’t have clothes.

He decides on a whim to choose easier clothing. He has to dress Evan, after all, and he doesn’t want to fight Evan about it. A shirt (with a winged skull on it- he doesn’t know what band this is, but it’s short sleeved) and basketball shorts. Evan sits patiently for once as Vinny pulls the shirt over his head. The shorts, too, are simple.

Vinny leads Evan into the living room. They’re both tired and drowsy. Vinny sits on the couch, patting it so Evan hops up onto it. It feels remarkably normal for Evan’s head to be on his lap, his fingers combing through the long strands in an attempt to straighten them. It feels so normal to run a hand across Evan's face and say _good boy_ in a silly voice.

It feels so normal to have his dog by his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is lighter. just a guy washing his dog. you'll get something special next chapter.
> 
> (also, nearly 2800 words in this chapter!)
> 
> edit 8/23/18: made evan trans. my city plus i needed it that way for something else.


	7. His name is Evan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for teeth pulling, mental manipulation, and pseudo animal abuse.

The dog is dozing by his master’s feet when the door opens. At it, he sees a different person from before. Different people always come through the door. Different hands grab the dog and pet him too harshly then throw him back when the person is tired of him every time.

The person is, invariably, the monster. The monster enters with different hands and different voices, but always covered in blood. It frustrates his master to have to clean the blood from the floor or off of the dog. The monster’s scent - the stench of decay and rage - frustrates the dog. It clings to everything, it clings to his master who doesn’t seem to realize it.

His master is frightened by the monster. The monster hurts his master, grabbing him too harshly and throwing him around. The monster screams and makes that noise that always seems happy when his master does it, but isn’t when the monster makes it. So loud, so rough- so cruel. His master cries and makes some sad, worried noises, holding his hand out to keep his dog back.

The dog doesn’t want to stay back. The monster has some sharp, glinting thing; it’s already hit his master, his friend more than a few times. Blood drips down his face. He only gets a chance to comfort his master when he’s knocked to the floor, licking the blood away while he stares at the monster.

The monster makes that awful noise again, then noises that the dog has come to believe are meant to be communication. It kneels, touching the dog in ways he hates. The sharp thing is pressed against his neck as the monster pulls him into a hug.

“Good boy,” it says, one of the few noises that the dog understands from his master’s people. “Good boy, Evan!” He knows what _good_ is. It means that he did something the monster likes, but what did he do? He doesn’t even like the monster. With his teeth so close to the monster’s neck, this time a color like the soft treats his master gives him when he follows an order, he knows he can do nothing.

The monster used the sharp thing to cut his master, he knows. The sharp thing against his neck is the only thing he can think of that will stop him from protecting his master, but the sharp thing doesn’t matter to him. His master, lying on the floor near the wall, does. While the monster holds him tight and keeps babbling, he can only stare.

His master is bleeding from his nose. His hands press against his side where the monster cut him, and his eyes are wet. The dog knows his master is scared. He reeks of it, and he keeps making these odd little snuffling, hitching noises. The dog whimpers quietly.

The monster’s sharp thing slides over his neck, but doesn’t cut anything. It just drops the sharp thing and pulls him even closer, too close, too close. The dog whimpers louder; his sharp teeth (new sharp teeth. They’re more natural feeling in his mouth, better to eat with and easier to move his tongue around) are so close to the monster’s neck. 

The monster doesn’t scream like he expected, when he sinks his sharp teeth into the soft flesh. The monster just makes that same horrible noise. He finds the large hands the monster’s using right now suddenly grabbing him harder; one around his neck, the other pushing him back so its hands can grab his jaw.

His teeth are bared, his head kept still by the hand around his jaw. The hand around his neck slides off to gesture at his master. More noises he doesn’t understand, another noise screamed- _now_. Whatever the monster said, it leads to his master running off.

While they’re alone, the monster puts his free hand on the dog’s forehead. The noises he hears make sense only then, only when the monster lets him. Everything makes sense to him, suddenly, when the monster leans its face closer to his and begins speaking.

His name is Evan. He had a girlfriend, he had a daughter, he had two close friends. He has one friend, now. He has a master, and he's in the grasp of a monster.

The monster is HABIT. He remembers- he remembers everything, suddenly. HABIT was him, controlled him for so long, only to leave him and take with his mind. HABIT slaughtered his girlfriend and used his lips, his teeth to eat his poor baby girl. HABIT used his hands to burn his friend’s gutted corpse. Nervous twitches became his life, the fear of waking up in some place with blood on his hands, his existence in his own flesh weak and without reason.

He sees, only now, that Vinny’s been suffering for so long. Vinny, _Vinny_ , his best friend, his master- Vinny’s had to watch and think all this time. He can think, he knows full well how wrong all of this is. He had to just keep going with his life this whole time as Evan was reduced to his pet. He was worn down into playing along, struggling with the knowledge that this isn’t right but being forced to adapt anyway.

All of this Evan sees, with HABIT’s hand on his forehead. All of this Evan knows, when Vinny comes walking back into the living room with pliers in his hand. HABIT stole his mind and brought him back a dog. 

HABIT holds the dog - Evan, his name is _Evan_ \- with both hands while Vinny stands behind him.

Vinny sees Evan. He sees the intelligence behind his eyes, and Vinny begins crying again. Quietly, as to not alert HABIT, but Vinny knows. Vinny knows Evan isn't gone. Even with HABIT’s hand around his face, Evan smiles to try and lessen Vinny’s horror.

HABIT whispers _you’re such a good boy, doggy_ and pulls his hand away from Evan’s head.

He knows he's fading. His mind is being taken away with HABIT’s golden touch, his basic self is being warped back into what it has been for far too long. A stupid mutt, a simple beast that doesn't know anything outside of his master and the simple joy of existence.

He can only sit as he watches Vinny begin sobbing openly. Vinny, Vinny, he tries to at least remember that name- his best friend, his only friend’s name. He doesn't even care about his own (what was it?) but he has to remember Vinny’s. He can't talk, not with his new teeth and tongue, but he growls anyway. It hurts to watch Vinny slide down the wall he was leaning against.

It hurts in a different way, when the last dregs of his human self are torn away completely. The dog doesn't know why the monster’s hand is where it is, but he knows his master is crying. It doesn't remember why. He doesn't remember what happened, or why his head is filled with images of horror and disgusting things.

The monster makes noises. One of them, the dog suddenly finds it understands- _Vinny_. Vinny. Vinny is his master. Vinny is crying as he moves closer to his dog, as the monster - name? surely it has a name - lets him go and steps back. 

Vinny, his master, it feels so good to know his name. Vinny. The dog tries to say it, but the sounds clutter around his new teeth. His new teeth, they're exposed with his smile. His smile is destroyed when Vinny grabs his jaw. Forcing it open so his dog’s teeth are on full display.

The monster says something. Whatever it is, the dog doesn't know anymore, but he does know that he doesn't like this situation. He hates when Vinny (his master, his master) closes the pliers around one of his back teeth. He hates when Vinny won’t stop crying, doesn’t stop whispering quiet comforting sounds. The worst part, though, is when Vinny pulls the pliers away; his tooth is ripped out at the root. Another, then another, then another. Soon he can feel with his flat tongue that all of his back teeth are gone. The monster laughs at him, at them; the blood dripping down his chin is cold, he’s shivering and whining as he tries to pull out of his master’s grasp. 

The monster laughs. The monster, staring down at them both with flaming eyes, kneeling to pick up one of the discarded teeth. The monster, kicking the dog as it walks away. Vinny, holding his face still, sobbing. He’s pleading something incomprehensible as the dog tries to pull away from him with renewed vigor. 

The dog hates it, he hates it. Blood is pouring out of his mouth in an overwhelming amount and all he wants to do is hide. Vinny - master, his master, so scared and so hurt - is a terrifying sight, to him, so he runs. He lopes off to his room, unable to shut the door behind him but burying his bleeding face into his ‘bed’ in an attempt to protect himself anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “the man” changed to “his master” somewhere in Evan realizing their dynamic; what’s left of his human mind refused to accept Vinny as his master until it deteriorated enough that the dog mind took over fully. of course, Evan's humanity being brought back then torn away again only makes him more animal. fear is such a primal thing, and HABIT's ensuring Evan stays as primal as possible.
> 
> i actually enjoy writing Evan chapters; his mind is simple, so all of his thoughts are simple. it isn’t like Vinny, getting all introspective and scared and shit, it’s just a dog in a simple world of his wonderful master and the monster. different, simpler vocabulary too.
> 
> i'm, incidentally, pounding these bitches out still. i just love this fic.


	8. how to feed a toothless dog

HABIT left. Evan hid. Vinny saw him run into his bedroom with his proverbial tail between his legs a day or two ago and hasn’t seen him since; he’s concerned, especially since the kibble Vinny poured into his bowl hasn’t been touched.

It tore him apart to see the light behind Evan’s eyes fade, when HABIT had hands on him. Evan was there. Human, whole, understanding everything at once and yet nothing at all once he was turned into his current self again. The terror in his dog’s eyes as Vinny tore his teeth out, all of the back molars and premolars, leaving only his too-large canines and pointed incisors.

The terror as he couldn’t understand why it was happening. Vinny’s sure Evan thinks he did it on purpose; or, perhaps, he knew HABIT didn’t give either of them a choice. Perhaps he knows Vinny was forced by that fucking _monster_ to hurt Evan even as he was breaking down about watching the fading humanity in Evan’s eyes.

Vinny spends a few hours shaking in his bed, hiding under the covers. He feels like an idiot when he cries, his chest feeling like it’s being compressed tight by his panic, his breath coming in short and quick gasps. The panic is all-consuming- he did that. His hands held Evan still as he tore tooth after tooth after tooth out of his poor friend’s head; after he broke the trust of his poor, unknowing pet. Worse than kissing him what feels like forever ago.

This, he doesn’t know if he can mend this. Evan’s mind is gone until HABIT gives it back, if he ever does. He knows full well his dog isn’t nearly smart enough to understand anything but the pain and the fear. 

He has to try, though. He doesn’t think Evan can eat the kibble anymore - the molars sitting in a bowl on the kitchen counter lends credence to this thought - so he spends a few minutes adjusting the kibble that’s sat in the bowl for days, now. Some broth poured in that Vinny found in the fridge (he’s sure HABIT didn’t mean to buy it), some of the soft food he finds buried far back in the cabinet. Mashing it all together to make it manageable for Evan, he then grabs a spoon and takes a spoonful of the peanut butter that he finds on a shelf; a treat, if Evan will have it.

He feels sick. It’s an almost constant state anymore, a miasma that hangs over his head with no cure. This time, though, he’s sick about the fact that he _has_ to do this just to feed Evan. He’s used to the concept of his best friend being a dog, but he’s not used to the new reality of him being partially toothless by Vinny’s own hand.

With the weight on his shoulders and the bowl in his hand, he walks towards Evan’s room. In it, he knows he’ll find Evan in the makeshift bed of blankets and stray pillows he dragged into the room. Undoubtedly, his dog will be curled up under a few of the blankets, hiding and nursing his wounds. 

Evan is, indeed, in that position when Vinny enters his room. The room itself is a mess, at this point; toys strewn about the floor, the bed ignored and the clothes from the drawers long since pushed into a corner. Vinny supposes it doesn’t matter, not when Evan is visibly shivering underneath the thick quilt Vinny put on his bed some time ago.

Dried blood is all over the room. Dripping from Evan’s jaw, Vinny figures he paced around in a panic before simply letting it bleed until it stopped; the trail of blood leads across the room, then back, over and over until it ends under the shivering lump of blankets. Evan’s entirely silent, for once.

“Hey, Evan…?” He first tries, kneeling a bit away from his bed. The dish he pushes towards Evan, slowly, testing the waters.

Evan doesn't reply, verbally (a distant concept at best, now) or in his odd animalistic way, at first. It takes Vinny sitting and waiting for what feels like a while until his dog works up the nerve to poke his nose out from the blankets. Wide eyes greet Vinny, the pupils but tiny pinpricks, frightened and confused. A quiet whimper comes next.

Evan eventually slides out of the blankets enough for Vinny to see him properly. Blood is dried down his chin, down his shirt, some on his hands and some smeared over his cheek. He looks pale and ill, really; Vinny attributes this to not only the blood loss but the stress, the pain. 

Vinny remembers being young and pulling a loose tooth. It stung for a while, and he didn't ever get used to the empty hole before the adult tooth came in. He can't imagine how it feels to have… a fair amount missing, he didn't want to count how many teeth he pulled because Evan kept whimpering and crying.

He did count, though. He counted every time he had to rip a tooth from Evan’s jaw and cringed every time Evan whimpered or cried during the process. Twenty-three teeth he pulled. Every single visceral shear of nerve and bone made the pit in his stomach deeper and deeper; every time Evan tried to wriggle away from him, whimpering, humanity so far gone despite HABIT giving it back just minutes before made him want to stop. 

He didn't, though, and these are the consequences. Evan staring at him like he's HABIT itself, dried blood streaking down his face from Vinny hurting him. Evan, shivering and sniffing the food Vinny prepared, then lowering his head to lick some of it up. He's hesitant. Stressed- Vinny sees how he keeps glancing up, trying to make sure he won't be hurt again.

Vinny waits patiently as Evan eats most of the mash. He's really just lapping it up, making the process fairly slow, but Vinny finds it oddly endearing. And anyway, he wants Evan to feel comfortable around him; he isn't going to rush him or force him into anything unnecessary.

“Evan?” Another attempt awarded only with a quiet whimper. Vinny decides to continue talking, rambling more for himself than for his friend who can't understand him. “I'm sorry, man. HABIT- you saw... you saw how he was. It was that or he kills us both slowly, man.” 

No comprehension, not even on Evan’s name. Vinny sighs before he holds one hand out to Evan. It's a symbol of peace, an attempt to console his poor, terrified dog. Evan whimpers as he sniffs the hand, seeming to want to get closer; Vinny just wants Evan to, maybe, come out of the bed fully. It takes him a while to work up the confidence. Once he does, though, he slinks out and immediately begins crawling into Vinny’s lap. 

The undying devotion of a dog. Evan will always trust him, will always love him even after Vinny’s hurt him so badly. Evan will always come back and lay in his lap. Evan will always let Vinny pet him and comfort him. It's Evan’s only choice really; his owner is Vinny, and he doesn't have anyone else. 

Vinny sits there, for a while, just threading his fingers through Evan’s hair. Under his fingers, Vinny feels the strands matted together with blood. They crunch when he presses down on them and pulls them apart. Evan, content, just _hrrrmms_ quietly. A satisfied noise. He isn’t as scared anymore, though he’s still shivering a little.

“Hey, Ev.” Evan looks up at him, making a curious _rrr?_ as he lifts his head. Vinny hesitates only a moment before touching a finger to Evan’s lips. Gentle, trying to test the boundaries. “Can I look?” He asks. The curiosity turns to distrust, stress, a quiet whimper and Evan shaking his head.

“Ev- I need to see if they’re infected.” He doesn’t know what an infection of this type would look like. He doesn’t know what to do if there is an infection, either; he thinks he could manage it. Ice, cleaning it with salt water? He isn’t sure enough to feel confident.

“Ev.” A sharper tone, this time. It’s not really worth scaring Evan, but… there’s so much dried blood. It might be genuinely dangerous for him to not get any sort of care, even with their utter lack of actual medical assistance. Evan keeps his mouth shut, a loud, nervous whine rumbling up from his chest that makes Vinny go quiet for a few moments. There's no point in talking. It's incredibly likely that forcing the matter physically would just agitate Evan.

A new tactic, then. He still has the spoonful of peanut butter. If he can get Evan to open his mouth, he can give the peanut butter as an award, and it won’t be perceived as a danger. 

He sticks the peanut butter in front of Evan's nose, close enough that he can smell it but far enough to where he has to move to get at it. When Evan does, sticking his face forward, Vinny pulls it back and puts his free finger on Evan’s nose and lips.

“Open.” To show him what to do, he opens his own mouth, then taps Evan’s lips. Evan’s face scrunches. He doesn’t want to, that much is obvious in how he growls quietly and presses his lips together. Vinny can see that he keeps looking at the peanut butter.

“Evan. Open.” The peanut butter is moved closer to Evan’s nose, then pulled away. “Open and you’ll get it.” A wiggle of the spoon finally gets Evan to open his mouth. He still seems hesitant, but stays still as Vinny grabs his head and lifts him to where he can see it.

The holes in Evan’s gums - all of them, all twenty-fucking-three of them - are partially healed already. None of them _look_ infected, and when Vinny puts his finger into Evan’s mouth Evan doesn’t whine. He does, however, close his mouth around Vinny’s finger.

It’s a quiet threat. The remaining teeth Evan has are still sharp, his incisors pressing into Vinny’s flesh, and Vinny is very aware that if he bit down he could take the finger off completely. Even so, he still runs his fingertip over Evan’s gums. It doesn’t seem to hurt Evan, the gentle touching; it isn’t until he pushes down on the gum that he gets another warning growl.

“Okay, okay. I get it, Ev. You’re fine.” He pulls his finger back. Tries to, but Evan won’t let go. There's a few moments of low growling before Evan jerks his head and points his nose at the peanut butter.

It's only when Vinny puts the spoon in front of Evan that his finger is released. Quickly, Evan leans forward to take the peanut butter. He closes his mouth around the spoon first, then pulls his head back. The consistency forces him to flick his broad, flat tongue out, drawing it back through his lips and remaining teeth, repeating the process over and over. It's cute, really, especially how his lips are pulled back to show both his teeth.

Everything's fine, right now, with Evan laying halfway in his lap and enjoying his treat. Everything's fine for now. Vinny expects that his actions will come back to bite him in the ass again, even if Evan can't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i did a remarkable amount of research to ensure i was describing evan’s dog teeth right. fun fact: adult dogs have forty-two teeth on average; twelve incisors (six on each jaw), four canines (two on each jaw), sixteen premolars (eight in each jaw), and ten molars (six on the lower jaw, four on the upper jaw). 
> 
> evan initially had thirty-nine dog teeth (as HABIT previously removed Human-Evan's three bottom right molars, as discussed in my fic “Eyes over easy”) but now only has sixteen teeth left; his four canines and his twelve incisors. this means he can't actually chew hard objects like kibble or hold toys properly (as dogs hold larger toys with their premolars). he can nip and bite, though.
> 
> i also did some research into how to feed toothless dogs. if you have kibble, you have to soak it in a liquid (broth, water, or gravy) to soften the pieces then mash it up. put it in a food processor if necessary; you can also add yogurt or other foods in there so long as they get puréed. another option is to purchase soft dog food, either pre-puréed soft food or small pieces of meat in gravy. as for treats, hard biscuits or otherwise hard treats are out; it’s better to just offer a spoonful of peanut butter to the dog, then.
> 
> as for how the dog actually eats it: unknown? i can't find any information at all as to how dogs consume the mash except one video of a woman preparing it and feeding it to her greyhound, who licks it up.


	9. DENTIST

Another video appears on their channel. This one is called _DENTIST_. Vinny already knows what it must be- footage of him ripping Evan’s teeth out. 

He watches it anyway, out of some sick, morbid curiosity. The video is fairly straightforward; a camera in the corner of the room captures Vinny holding the pliers, Evan’s face in his hand, HABIT standing beside them wearing some poor muscular bastard, bleeding from where Evan bit him. Evan looks confused while Vinny is visibly defeated, shoulders sagging and face lowered.

“C’mon. Stop the mutt from biting, Vinny!” HABIT says in a stranger’s voice, though somehow still so similar, layered with the demonic tone Vinny’s come to fear. The video shows Vinny hesitating. Then, he grasps one of Evan’s teeth with the pliers and pulls.

He remembers Evan's scream vividly. It wasn't human, more like a howl than anything else. Pure agony and pure terror. Evan writhes, but Vinny keeps his jaw held tight and begins talking. Really, he wasn't thinking about what he was saying when he said it; he just wanted to comfort Evan.

Now, he hears it through the tinny speakers of his laptop. Now, he has to just sit and watch. “I'm sorry, Evan- I’m sorry, I don't want to do this. You'll be- you'll be fine. I don't want to hurt you, I don't want to,” he's sobbing in the video, pausing to press his forehead against Evan’s even as his dog whines and cries out. “I'm so _sorry_ -” as the camera picks up the sickening crunch of a tooth shattering in the pliers grip, forcing Vinny to pull the shards out piece by tiny piece. Confusion, fear, all consuming and all encompassing. HABIT just laughs at them.

HABIT just laughs. Vinny keeps going until HABIT says he can stop. By this point, Evan is covered in his own blood- a crime scene that only they three will ever be able to locate, but that everyone on the internet can see with a simple click.

Evan’s still crying in the video. Human tears on a frightened dog, they look so, so _wrong_ dripping down his face. The blood dripping down his chin looks so wrong, too; the way that Evan slams his hands into the ground over and over, trying to skitter back from the man hurting him.

The video ends with a long shot of Vinny sitting there once Evan runs off. He's crying, begging, screaming that he didn't want to do it; HABIT just laughs, kneeling next to him and proclaiming that he did _such a good job_.

Vinny closes the video.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> very short chapter to establish events in-universe vis a vis what HABIT is showing the fans. next chapter is big old number TEN! gonna be a blast, folks :-)


	10. Did you know that declawing a dog is like taking off your first knuckle?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for HABIT's bullshit. gore, abuse, torture, cannibalism, etcetera.

“Did you know that declawing a dog is like taking off your first knuckle?” HABIT says, pressing the tip of his knife deeper into Vinny’s cheek. “People do it to stop their dogs from scratching or so they don’t have to clip their claws constantly.” The knife draws a line down his cheek as HABIT speaks. He's got one arm around his neck, keeping him flush to HABIT’s chest.

“Experts say you shouldn’t do it, that the dogs are in pain for the rest of their lives.” HABIT talks directly into his ear. This time he’s wearing a new person- a woman that looks like Steph did, long dark hair and a soft face, but the voice is as usual wrong. It crawls through Vinny’s ear and makes it feel like something’s scratching inside his head, all-encompassing and unforgettable.

“What do you _want_?” Vinny hisses through his teeth. HABIT laughs, HABIT always laughs. HABIT forces him to stare at Evan, currently leashed and tied to the stair banister. A new collar is wrapped tight around his neck; cold steel, it has spikes turned inward that stab into Evan’s neck, stop him from lunging forward. He keeps moving back and forth, pacing. Agitated, enraged.

“What do I _want_ , Vinny? I- well, now, I want _you_ to declaw your dog, Vinny.” HABIT says. His voice reverberates through Vinny where their bodies touch. He only wants to get away from this, to take his dog (Evan, his name is Evan, not just dog) away from the pain and the fear.

“Why are you doing this?” Vinny tries next. He doesn’t want to declaw Evan. Evan’s suffered enough already without his fingers being fucking _amputated_. He couldn’t walk, not with his fingers mangled, and if his human self ever comes back he won’t be able to function fully. _If_.

To this, HABIT just cackles again, again, _again_. From somewhere he pulls a pair of garden shears. The blades are sharp and already bloody, the handle well-worn from presumably HABIT’s various hands. The shears are forced into Vinny’s grasp as HABIT shoves him towards Evan.

Kneeling by his dog, he wraps his hand around the back of Evan’s head and pulls him closer. Their foreheads touch gently. Vinny’s fingers thread through Evan’s long, soft hair. “I’m sorry.” He mutters, even as Evan begins to shiver again in his grasp. Like last time, Evan doesn’t understand. He doesn’t know what Vinny’s going to do to him.

He can hear Evan’s breathing become quicker and quicker, his lips pulling back from his teeth in a show of fear, aggression. A snarl, nose wrinkling, Evan’s scared. He realizes _something_ , Vinny can tell. It isn’t until Vinny grabs one of his wrists, lifting it, that Evan tries to attack him.

The lunge is halted by the spiked collar, slicing into his neck and turning his growl into a howl of agony. HABIT, behind them, laughs again. Vinny despises that laugh, but he despises how Evan tries to press himself into the wall to get away.

“Ev... just, just let me do this. You don’t want _him_ to do it.” He again grabs Evan’s wrist, this time with more urgency. HABIT’s just wrapped his soft arms around Vinny’s chest, resting his soft chin on Vinny’s shoulder. 

Evan’s hand is still, tense. HABIT slides his slim fingers over Vinny’s shoulder, down his arm, up to Evan’s hand. His fingertips stop just after Evan’s first knuckle; into Vinny’s ear, he whispers, _there, puppy_.

The next part Vinny hates just as much as ripping Evan’s teeth out. He hates the feeling of the bone cracking and giving under the sharp edge of the shears. Evan’s scream, a howl that pitches with the sickening _crunch_ of his _bone_. The blood burbling out of the clipped finger, soaking Vinny’s hand and the shears. The feeling of HABIT’s chest against his back. HABIT’s quiet, warped laugh as he watches the whole gory scene. Vinny can’t look away; he stares at Evan’s face, twisted into a hideous mask of agony, he stares.

He stares and notices the tears dripping from Evan’s eyes, the drool dripping down his jaw. The blood spurting freely from the hideous wound. Evan’s eyes are open, though they’ve rolled back in his head. Evan’s body writhes without his conscious choice.

But Evan doesn’t try and escape. He writhes, yes, he wails and thrashes, but he doesn’t try to escape. His hand is kept firmly in Vinny’s grasp as he clips the next finger, the next, the next. More blood gushing, more splintering bone. More visceral horror.

On the fourth finger Evan can’t scream anymore. His voice gives out mid-howl, the baying stopping with a sudden crack. His mouth shuts tight with a _click_ once he realizes he can’t scream anymore. Those wet eyes roll forward to focus on Vinny, his best friend, those wet eyes filled with agony and horror incomprehensible to anyone else.

Vinny moves onto Evan’s other hand. The injured hand is brought close to Evan’s chest, weeping blood still, but Vinny focuses on clipping the rest. He’s gotten into a rhythm, really. It gets easier if he doesn’t think about it just like with the teeth. It gets much easier if he looks down and ignores Evan’s pleading eyes, the quiet panting.

The fingertips are scattered around the floor when Vinny finishes. He slides Evan’s hand out of his, watches his poor friend draw both hands to his mouth and lick them. If Evan’s ears were dog-like Vinny’s sure they’d be flat against his head; as it is, though, Evan’s cowering against the wall and lapping his wounds. The fear keeps his body taut, ready to snap if he’s touched again.

“Vinny, good job! Look at that, you won’t have to ever bother with clipping his nails again.” HABIT proclaims only once Vinny’s realized he’s crying, too. “Now. _Now_ ,” HABIT draws out this syllable, humming into Vinny’s ear like the buzzing of a thousands bees.

“Now!” HABIT stands too suddenly. Evan, curled into himself as he is, flinches and whines. Vinny just turns to stare up at the monster who’s been torturing them for far too long. The monster, HABIT, speaks further. Vinny notices distantly that the woman-suit’s voice is gone, leaving just the demonic growl of HABIT. “Now we have something else to do, Vinny. Your dog- your dog, he’s hungry, isn’t he?”

Is Evan hungry? Vinny’s been doing the same process that he did that first night, with Evan covered in blood and unable to eat hard food. As far as he notices Evan eats enough. But... 

HABIT means something else. He always does. Vinny looks up, wide-eyed and confused, then suddenly HABIT is pressing him into the floor. His thick legs straddle Vinny’s hips, his somehow inhumanly strong arms press Vinny’s hands into the floor. “Stay still,” HABIT growls. Vinny won’t, he can’t, not when Evan is watching and HABIT is pushing his shirt up, pressing a knife into his sternum-

Vinny hasn’t suffered much, physically. Nothing nearing this. The splitting of his skin and the drag of the knife against his bone makes him shriek, trying to buck HABIT off of him even though he knows it’s no use. He hears Evan bark hoarsely, the clanking of the chain around his neck as he undoubtedly lunges forward to help his friend-

Everything is cut into slivers of sensation, disconnected from the concept of time. The knife slitting through his muscle like butter. Hot-white pain as his skin is peeled back and his muscle is pulled away. The disgusting sensation of his intestines being pulled out, played with, but not removed. Just hung away from his body like demented Christmas lights. HABIT snapping his fingers, the quiet rasp of the leash sliding off of Evan’s collar.

Evan, nosing him gently. Evan, whimpering. HABIT, grabbing Evan’s hair and forcing him to stick his face into Vinny’s exposed organs. A noise- a voice, _EAT IT_. The soft, wet feeling of a tongue lapping over an organ that he can't quite identify with his brain reeling. A sharp nip, then absolute agony as the nip turns into a bite turns into a tear turns into the teeth taking part of his flesh. Hesitant, he knows- he can hear Evan whining and panting, can feel Evan’s hair dragging away from his guts then dipping back in as HABIT forces his head down. The _pop_ of Evan’s sharp teeth through the skin of his intestine. 

_EAT IT_ , again. Evan takes more bites, snuffling around between the organs as HABIT keeps pushing his face further in. Vinny is only aware of this when he raises his head weakly to look down at himself, at Evan.

HABIT’s soft hand is wrapped right around Evan’s hair (Vinny meant to cut it short, so Evan didn't get it in his food. Why is he remembering this just now?) and Evan’s face is bloody. Vinny’s blood. Vinny’s guts hanging loosely from his body, on full display; bites taken from them. Evan’s chewing timidly on a piece of his intestine as best he can. Evan looks heartbroken, almost. His eyes are cast to the side, avoiding the gore, while tears slide down his cheeks to mingle with Vinny’s blood.

He's lightheaded, now. Everything seems so far away. Even the click of Evan’s remaining teeth around his intestines again doesn't make him think of much at all. The world is limited to his own fogged brain and the knowledge that maybe, if he die, this will all be over.

* * *

The dog is terrified. He can't walk without his paws feeling like they're on fire. 

His master cut them. His master took his paws and clipped the ends off; he doesn't understand _why_ , but he knows his master didn't want to. Vinny didn't want to. Vinny had wet eyes, was making those quiet noises that the dog hates. Vinny had the monster’s hands on him.

The monster, now, has his muzzle buried into his master’s guts. His master - Vinny, he likes Vinny - fell still fairly recently, but the dog can't think about that, not when he can't breathe through the blood in his nose. It isn't his, it's Vinny’s, Vinny isn't _moving_. His chest isn't rising and falling anymore and the blood isn't spurting anymore, just collecting, growing cold. 

The dog hates it, he hates it, he hates how the monster's hand around his neck presses in and makes the new collar stab him. He hates that he can't do anything but crouch by his master and eat. The monster, though, tires of this. The dog feels the thin fingers - this time on a softer body than he's ever seen before, barring Vinny’s gentle frame - slide out of his fur. The fingers then run down his neck, catching on the collar and pulling him back. Away from his master, away from Vinny’s body. 

Corpse. The dog remembers the concept of death too late. He's pressed into the floor by the soft body the monster has now, the same pose as Vinny; flat on his back, front legs by his sides and back legs hanging loose. The monster this time leans down, the shining object in its hand held to the dog’s stomach. It gets its face too close for the dog’s comfort then kisses him.

He doesn't like kisses. He hated when Vinny kissed him, and he hates it now. Even more so now that he sees Vinny’s blood on the monster’s new thin lips; he can't help but growl, but all that gets him is the monster pressing that shining thing into the skin of his stomach. The monster makes noises, as usual. None of them make any sense to him except _Vinny_. The monster doesn't deserve to have Vinny’s name in its mouth. He growls, snapping his few teeth at the beast above him- 

Only to have the monster move so suddenly, so quickly that he can't even react before the sharp thing is sunk into his front right leg. The bone cracks, just like his claws not so long ago. He doesn't really have it in him to howl. The monster seems to take offense to this- the sharp thing is torn out and sunk in over and over, up and up until it's near his elbow. He doesn’t focus on that; he can’t bring himself to care. The monster could tear him apart and it wouldn't hurt more than seeing Vinny dead does.

His dead master has grown pale where his skin isn't stained red. His guts hang loose and cut up from his stomach, and his face has turned towards his dog. Those soft, kind eyes are blank now. That gentle smile is replaced with a slack jaw and dead eyes. The dog misses him already. An empty hole in his chest, a feeling he doesn't know the name of. His master is gone; what does he do? No one can replace Vinny. No one can replace how gentle he is, how caring, how much he loves his dog even though there's something that makes him sad about it all.

The monster licks the wound it created, the wounds it forced Vinny to create. Sucking on the torn flesh like it’s trying eat it, the monster laps up his blood, but eventually bored of his arm. Instead, it grabs his face, moving it to look at it. He doesn't want to. He hates how the long, dark hair hangs down, he hates how the person looks - why? - and he hates how the person leans down to kiss him again. This time he tastes his own blood on its lips. 

_Good boy, good boy,_ it says, before grabbing the collar on his neck and tightening it just that much more. The sting makes him whimper again; the monster laughs again, before standing and walking towards the door. The dog knows he couldn't run after it fast enough to sink his remaining teeth into it.

He watches it leave, then curls up next to his master’s cold body, solemnly licking his own wounds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edit: reuploaded chapter to fix some things i didn't like, namely what HABIT did to Evan's arm towards the end. the rest of the chapter is the same. 
> 
> good ol chapter TEN, folks! HABIT's having more and more fun with this, much to the horror of poor VInny and poor Evan. fun times, huh? this chapter was fun to write even though cannibalism isn't my thing.


	11. They prayed for murder but you prayed a little more

Vinny wakes to a broad, wet tongue running across his face. He aches, yes, but he doesn’t feel like he did before. Before was agony. Now is only a quiet thrum of pain in the back of his mind, overshadowed by the presence of his dog beside him. His dog, who is...

Badly injured, still. Blood is dried on his face again - Vinny’s blood - but the real issue is his arm. His right arm, bleeding profusely and tucked against his chest. The middle of his forearm looks to have been absolutely _butchered_ \- it’s still on, but not by much. Hanging by a fleshy thread and a portion of muscle. HABIT did it, definitely; Evan doesn’t seem to care about it, at the moment. He's lowered his body to lick Vinny, his lips drawn back in not a snarl but something... worried? He won't look at Vinny’s face for longer than a few moments, yet still keeps coming closer to nudge or lick him.

Evan’s stressed and scared, he knows. The sharp collar is fastened tighter around his neck than it was before. He whines when Vinny’s eyes open but can't do anything but keep licking, trying so hard to comfort him.

“Ev.” Vinny croaks, raising a hand and grabbing Evan’s shoulder to lift himself up. Evan is shivering under his hand. His dog leans forward and licks his face gently, again, again, until he laughs and wraps his other hand around Evan’s cheek. The blood is slick and cold. Looking down, Vinny can see his stomach is almost healed-

_Almost healed._ A raised pink scar traces down his chest to almost his groin, smaller scars surrounding that. He should’ve known HABIT wouldn’t let him die. Not when Evan is still alive, agitated and shivering like some tiny chihuahua, hair soaked with the viscera of Vinny’s injury. Vinny just wants this all to stop. He hates the memory - the thought - the reality of himself being torn open like a beast for slaughter, the touch of Evan’s teeth to his organs, the fact that he doesn’t know what happened after he died.

Died. Now there’s a thought. He knows that HABIT brought Evan back from a similar situation, healing him completely except for a nasty scar, but he didn’t ever consider that HABIT would do it to him. Then again, though; what fun is there in a dead corpse? Not nearly as much as there is torturing Vinny, forcing him to care for his now mutilated pet-friend.

Vinny knows they’re both a mess. Despite his HABIT-induced healing, he’s still soaked in his own blood and... whatever else leaked out from inside of him as Evan ate. Evan’s covered in both of their blood, and the acrid scent of vomit tells Vinny that he was sick. The collar on his neck is digging holes into his skin.

Vinny decides to handle Evan first. He needs his dog to go along with what they have to do; he won’t do it if he’s in agonizing pain. Bringing Evan closer to him, he reaches back and pushes the long hair that he _really_ needs to cut away from the clip. The spikes are sunk so deep into the flesh that he has to gently, gently pull each one out of the wounds. Evan doesn’t whimper at that; Vinny suspects he’s suppressing his noises, as to not worry his owner.

“You’re okay. Come on, we have to clean you up.” A pause, Vinny laughs. “Clean us up, I guess.” Evan just _hrrfs_ , not knowing what Vinny’s saying. When Vinny stands he bounces a little in place; he limps alongside Vinny, looking somehow naked without any sort of collar on. 

Their trek to the bathroom is slow at best. Vinny’s still in some pain, his legs feeling almost foreign to him, while Evan is struggling to walk with his one hand rendered useless. Once they’re there, Vinny tries talking. Evan’s sitting patiently as Vinny undresses him first. Every so often, he licks Vinny’s face, beginning to whine. Worried, perhaps.

“Hey, Ev. It's-” It isn't fine. HABIT’s now killed Vinny and forced him to mutilate Evan, changed them both in ways they won't ever be able to recuperate from. Vinny pauses, humming quietly as he pulls Evan’s shirt off.

“I'm alive, buddy.” The rest of the clothes are easy. He doesn’t enjoy being naked in front of Evan, but the blood and viscera all over them both necessitates it, and he doesn’t want to waste water on two showers. First, Vinny gets shampoo and soap, as before. He gets scissors too- Evan _urfs_ , agitated, but doesn’t skitter away. A needle and thread for Evan’s arm; band-aids for his fingers. Gauze because he doesn’t know what to do. The shower head is in its cradle and on full spray.

When Vinny gets in the tub, he states “up-up,” a phrase he’d trained into Evan. Vinny holds his hands out. Evan doesn't know how to get into the tub while injured, but crawls in anyway; Vinny grabs his shoulders so he doesn't fall onto his hands. 

Evan’s body is stocky and powerful under Vinny’s hands. Pale, scarred skin, that same pink scar on his stomach. Vinny realizes only now that he can see the muscles adapting; mostly by Evan simply getting stronger, but in all the oddest places to support his new movement patterns. Lifting Evan’s hands, his mutilated hands, shows rough calluses on his palms.

His hair, already being washed clean by the water, is limp around his face. Vinny runs through the same motions as usual for both of them; lathering his hair and Evan’s, running the washcloth over both of them. The wounds on both of them he takes care with. His own are gently cleaned and wiped off, but Evan’s take more focus. 

The fingertips are simple. Wash them, dry them, wrap them in the bandaids. The arm, though? That Vinny isn’t sure about. The bone is shattered completely, while the flesh is nearly shredded. He doesn’t want to have to take the thing off. He knows from the teeth, from various other injuries caused by his clumsy dog, that Evan heals quickly. Maybe he can just wrap it in gauze until it’s stiff and hope it doesn’t become infected.

He does that. Evan doesn’t like it, wriggling back and forth and making pathetic noises of complaint. Vinny keeps working anyway, not focusing too hard on how the bone splinters beneath his fingers and how Evan’s probably going to have nerve damage from this.

It’s all fairly routine until he grabs the scissors. Evan growls, snarls at him- he doesn’t understand. The scissors probably look too much like the shears to him. Vinny knows talking won’t do much; he shakes his head instead, lifting the scissors to cut a little bit of his hair. Showing Evan that he isn’t going to hurt him.

Evan relaxes a touch after that. He sits relatively still as Vinny takes his long hair in his fingers, cutting the strands quickly and efficiently. He only grows stressed when Vinny gets close to his scalp; Vinny keeps going, though. He wants to get the hair back to how it was before all of this shit started- short cropped, messy but easy to care for. 

Once the hair is off and washed down the drain, Vinny looks at his friend. Seeing that empty dog gaze on the face of his old friend, from before this shit happened, just makes him feel emptier than he did when his guts were spilled across the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quicker chapter because the next one has me real excited.
> 
> title from [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8BmH0iHmYnw&ab_channel=evrythngevrythngVEVO)


	12. The elephant in the room.

Vinny hears Evan. Evan, cursing about something, something clattering to the tile floor of the kitchen. Vinny runs to the kitchen faster than he’s run in a while, sliding to a halt at the sight of his best friend.

Upright, upright. Slumped slightly and grasping at a cup with his stumped fingers, another cup rolling by his feet. He doesn’t hear Vinny, apparently, since he keeps fumbling, his arm evidently working well enough but his fingers utterly failing him. Quietly, he’s hissing _fuckin’- couldn’t just keep my goddamn fingers, could I?_ For some reason, he’s in a different shirt (did he change?) and jeans, but the collar still remains clipped around his neck. Purple, stained red-brown with blood. The short haircut he has now is messy from sleep.

“ _Evan_ ,” Vinny breathes. His friend, back from the trap of his own mind. His friend, upright, whirling around to stare at him. His eyes are dark and tired, black smeared under them from exhaustion, but he’s alive. Himself.

Evan stares at him like he’s a ghost, or maybe like he’s a god. Stunned and star-struck and fond. Vinny suspects that the dog mentality isn’t fully gone - might not ever be gone, because he bounces on the balls of his feet. Excited. He moves forward, grinning widely, even as Vinny begins crying.

Their hug is tight. Evan grabs him with surprising force, burying his face into Vinny’s chest. Vinny’s the one crying, though, resting his chin on Evan’s shoulder. An embrace of agonizing distance; neither of them have seen each other, not like this, in so long. Evan’s blunt fingers run over Vinny’s back, then bury themselves in the soft hair at the back of his neck.

When they pull away from each other, Vinny immediately spits out “What do you remember?” He needs to know if Evan knows how Vinny’s been treating him like a dog for so long, he needs to know if Evan’s angry at him for pulling and cutting and mangling him.

Evan hesitates, eyes flicking around. Even now that he’s upright he still has an animal quality to him. He won’t stay still, moving back and forth with unbridled strength hiding under his skin. He licks his lips with that flat tongue and grunts. “Dog.” The word isn’t enough; he grunts again, shaking his head just like an actual dog, then hits his forehead with the palm of his hand. Agitated, frustrated, Evan looks up at him with wide eyes. “Master? I don’t know. It’s all- so, fucking _confusing_.”

Master. _Master_. Evan was staring at him, Evan was calling _him_ master. Vinny knows it’s how dogs probably look at their owners, but hearing it from his friend’s lips... he shakes his head, furiously. “Don’t call me that. It’s- it’s Vinny.” His reaction makes Evan huff. It’s not angry, just his way of expressing distaste anymore.

“Vinny. I know- I know that. I remembered that. You were. Gentle. I liked you- I still like you, but I mean, dog-me liked you a lot.” Evan’s speech is halting, unsure. He licks his lips and keeps shifting his jaw- probably not used to his teeth or tongue, Vinny guesses. “My teeth?” His face scrunches in that way that’s just so _Evan_. Lifted lips and eyes squinted, he shrugs. “My fingers.” A pause, where he shakes his head as if to clear it. “You died. Your, your guts,” A growl as he speaks, “hanging- hanging everywhere.” He gestures close to his stomach, hands clawed as much as they can anymore and pulling away as if to show the ripping of guts. Another deep snarl rumbles from his chest. “Decorations.” 

“Okay, okay. So you were... there, kind of. Come- come here, would you?” Evan does. Without thinking, when Evan stops in front of him, he says _good boy_.

The silence stretches between them. A loaded pause, Evan looks up at him in confusion and disgust, but something deep in his so, so human eyes seems satisfied. Even as his lips pull back from his teeth, he looks happy that he's a _good boy_. Vinny won't break the silence, but he does reach around Evan to unclip the collar. This time, HABIT’s left the clip there, probably so Vinny could put it back on. Once it's off, Evan looks at it with hollow eyes. 

Neither of them speak for what feels like ages. Finally, Evan starts speaking. His voice is quiet, rough. Morose, almost. “Don’t call me that.” There's a quiet growl that neither of them address. Evan moves on, ignoring the name, ignoring their dynamic before he came back. “You cut my hair.”

“Yeah. It kept- kept getting in your food.” He can see Evan lick the inside of his mouth; the teeth. The soft gums where his teeth (dog or human) should be. His expression is suspicious, eyes on Vinny then on the wall then on Vinny’s hands. The bowl of the teeth on the counter, dried out now.

The elephant in the room. A man and his mutilated dog, two incredibly stressed men who don't want to talk about it. Evan clenches his fists. Vinny sighs, lowering his eyes. He starts talking just to get it out of his head, just to get it off of his chest now that Evan can _understand_ him.

“I know- I know I treated you like a dog. I’ll admit, I kind of... liked it. Liked having a dog that was so devoted and always there even after I fucking- tore his _teeth_ out. Even after I cut your fingers off- you, you were always there for me. I liked being able to be _useful_.” Evan listens intently. His head is canted to the side just like it was as a dog. “I hated how you were destroyed like that, but I couldn’t do anything about it. You were so- so excited around me, you never stayed angry, you were always so, so simple. I just had to feed you and make sure you didn’t die and you loved me. I just, I loved being useful. I kept you alive and happy. But, but I also-” He points at Evan’s mouth, his hands. 

“I hated doing that, Ev, I _hated_ it. HABIT just- HABIT- oh, you know. I hated every time you cried or whimpered or tried to get away from me but couldn’t. And then you just, you just--!” Vinny’s rambling. Evan is patient, listening, letting him get it all out. “You’d be scared for a bit but the second I was nice to you again you just let it go. So simple, nothing was- everything was _bad_ but you always needed me. My dog always needed me. I know- I know I shouldn’t treat you like that. I shouldn’t have, but it just-”

“It’s what was necessary.” Evan says, quietly. His eyes are dark. Sad, almost, but resigned to their fate. Resigned to the absolute control HABIT has over their lives now. Evan talks, now, voice rough like he’s been screaming for years. “Don’t say sorry. Don’t you fucking _dare_ say sorry, Vin. We both know damn well you didn’t want to do the- the-” He gestures with what’s left of his fingers, pointing at his mouth. “Any of it.”

Vinny doesn’t reply, for a few moments. Evan isn’t mad? How isn’t he enraged? He’s missing pieces, he couldn’t even grab a cup and he can’t eat properly anymore. All because Vinny just went along with orders. All because Vinny ripped every single tooth and cut every single fingertip off.

“Evan...” As he looks at Evan, he sees the wild animal trapped beneath his scarred skin. The beast that Evan hid so well before HABIT showed up. Evan’s rage is boiling beneath the surface, but Vinny knows his friend is tired. Exhausted by his own existence. His eyes are wild, and trail off to the side. “Evan.” Attention, attention. Evan looks up with such a raw expression that Vinny just pulls him into another hug.

This one is desperate. Their agony is shared; two different perspectives to the torture, two broken men clinging to one another emotionally and physically. Vinny feels Evan shuddering in his grasp. Tears soak into his shirt, Evan whines quietly just like he did before. Vinny can’t help but cry too. Evan’s _back_. Evan, even if he’s still animal, even if he’s still raw and broken. He doesn’t know if HABIT’s gonna take this away- he just wants to take it in as much as he can. 

Evan eventually pulls back. He wipes his face furiously, snuffling. Those sharp teeth (too many and yet too little) sink into his lip. Evan jerks his head towards the living room. His walk, as he heads towards it, is oddly loping. He doesn’t remember how to walk like a human, Vinny thinks.

Vinny follows silently. Evan’s never been good with emotion, even before the dog thing, so he doesn’t touch on the tears. He just sits beside Evan, suppressing his urge to pet his friend. The collar is off, Evan is reaching for a controller, and they’re going to play video games. He can’t treat Evan like a dog anymore. He still likes it when Evan leans into his side. That rumble deep in his chest, relaxed and content, make Vinny chuckle quietly.

Evan looks at him, brows furrowed. Vinny shakes his head and raises a hand, testing the waters, hovering over Evan’s head. He wants to pet Evan, wants to pet the man he’s come to consider his devoted pet (as fucked up as it is). He just doesn’t want to upset Evan now that he’s in full control of himself.

Silence, then Evan leans his head into the hand. His few teeth are visible as he smiles, a human smile, even with the dog tongue hiding behind it. Vinny runs his hand over the short hair a few times, content with how Evan rumbles and shuts his eyes. The calm after a raging storm, the silence and starkness of everything so striking.

A few more pets then Evan pulls his head away. His voice is still low and rough, but this time he’s talking with a smile. “‘Nough of that. S’nice but I’m not your dog.” 

Vinny doesn’t know how to take it. He likes petting Evan- Evan, devoted, a kind dog, but this Evan isn’t his dog. This Evan is the normal Evan, the genuine product, the real human deal. Traumatized, missing the buttons on the controller with his fingers cut short. Human. His Evan, his actual friend, not someone with his mind taken away and a hollow twin left in his stead.

“Alright.” Vinny replies, even though he misses his dog. He doesn’t know if Evan will be ripped away again- will the dog come back? Or were the two merged, Evan and dog one being? He suspects the latter. Evan’s a wild animal, trapped in the house with all the wrong parts missing, but he’s still Evan. The loyal, aggressive, wonderful man Vinny knew before this shit all happened and tore them apart.

They play video games like they did before. Evan wins, despite his mutilated body, and Vinny doesn’t even mind. He’s simply glad Evan’s back and whole again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a little too animal.


	13. Catharsis.

Evan doesn't sleep in Vinny’s room for the first time in what must be weeks. He sleeps on the sheetless bed in his bedroom; the pile of blankets is torn apart, most of the quilts winding up on the human bed. Vinny checks on him before he goes to sleep too- Evan’s curled on his side and breathing steadily. His hands are curled in front of him, the stumped fingers twitching.

Evan's fine. Evan’s safe. If he wakes up as a dog, then Vinny can deal with it; he hopes dearly that Evan wakes up as Evan. As much as he enjoyed his dog, he enjoys Evan more. They can talk, they can play together in ways that don't involve the soft toys strewn about the house, they can do anything. 

Vinny goes to sleep relaxed, calm. He wakes the same way until he sees a camera sitting on his side table. Purple tape sticks a note to it. Leaning in to read it, he sees HABIT’s same scrawl. _Vinny,_ it says, the ink spread through the paper, _good job with your dog! Here's a gift :D_

Full circle. HABIT used his camera against him and now wants him to use it against Evan, against himself. Vinny has that same itch, the urge- he has to film, doesn't he? The camera is _there_ , it works. He should film. 

He does. He walks throughout the house, filming aimlessly, until Evan comes walking - walking - out of his bedroom. Today he's wearing a slightly too small shirt and his jeans, again; he stares at the camera suspiciously. His lips curl into a snarl for a few moments before he speaks. Rough from sleep, dark with anger. “What did HABIT upload?”

Vinny won't show him. He won't, he can't- not when Evan was exposed to the entire internet. A dog, just a dog. Always a dog. Evan might remember being treated like that but he doesn’t _know_ what it looked like, so starkly shown. All of it summed up into two videos showing how Vinny just went along with it and how Evan suffered.

Vinny’s hesitation has Evan storming forward. One strong hand pushes him into the wall, the other wrapping around his wrist and closing so hard Vinny swears he can feel his bone giving under the pressure. “ _Tell me_.” A dark growl. It doesn't sound human, not with how the two syllables come out too low for Evan’s regular voice and too sharp for a human’s voice. Those few teeth are bared in an enraged snarl; those eyes are narrowed in suspicion.

“Two videos- Ev, please- two videos. One’s called, uh, _NEW DOG_. It's just a bunch of clips of, of dog you. Me feeding you and playing with you and walking you and, the kiss, stuff like that. A bunch of clips from cameras in the walls. I couldn't find them- Evan- please, let go.” Vinny pleads. The words slide from his lips, jumbled. Evan’s blunt fingers are wrapped right around his arm and he's sure he’ll bruise if Evan doesn't just break it. 

Evan growls. A genuine growl, no trace of humanity in it; his eyes are growing darker and darker every second. “Two.” His voice isn't human. It sounds like a dog trying to mimic him. The dog roiling under Evan’s skin, the beast, comes out in how he leans closer, a force of nature pressing Vinny into the wall and nearly breaking his wrist.

“The other one was- was _DENTIST_. Just, just video of me tearing your teeth out. Not even edited or cut up- Evan, Evan. Please. We can make, make another video. Explain it or- or just,” His hand is going numb. The portion of arm that Evan’s holding is agonizing, but he daren’t move and risk Evan snapping it. 

Evan’s eyes hide animal rage, a man trapped for too long now free and seeing the shit of the earth. His hand stays around Vinny’s wrist before he lets go. A jerk of his head indicates that they should go to the living room. “Video.” Is all he says, voice dark but no longer a growl. His walk is more of a prowl; Vinny sees the animal. Evan’s frustrated, angry, but he sits on the couch as Vinny sets up the camera anyway. 

The video starts with both of them, silent. Vinny is sitting up straight and not quite looking at the camera, expression sad and eyes soft like a doe’s. He lifts one hand to run through his hair, the other kept clenched in his lap. Evan is slouched, looking at his mutilated hands. His shoulders are squared while he licks his lips with his flat tongue.

Vinny speaks first. “Hey, guys. It's, uh, been a while since we’ve actually uploaded anything, I know. It's just, a lot has happened, and we kind of wanted to explain it...” He doesn’t know what to say. He didn’t think about it, so he looks over at Evan. Evan, who was silenced for likely months at this point, Evan who needs to speak.

Evan sounds like he's gritting his teeth. His voice is rough, and his words are clipped short. “Dog, yeah. HABIT fucking- fucking,” A wild gesture towards his own head, “made me a dog. Apparently you guys saw some of that. It also did _this_ -” he holds one hand up, showing the stumped fingers. “So, there's that! It _fucked_ with Vinny. Made him, _do_ things.” Evan’s animated in that subtle way. Aggressive gestures, baring his dog teeth. He glances at Vinny with wild eyes filled with flame. 

“Yeah, uh... it's just been a lot to deal with. A lot. HABIT took the camera, so I couldn't even show you guys anything.” He pauses, mulling over his words. Beside him Evan shifts and runs a hand over his face. “I know the situation was- is, fucked up. But we couldn't do anything about it.”

A few seconds of silence pass before Evan speaks, looking directly into the camera. He leans forward. Intense. “Don't you motherfuckers blame Vinny. He worked with what he had, not. Not much.” Evan shakes his head. “It's a shit situation. He did his best.”

“That's... that's about all we had, really. We just wanted to check in.” Vinny ends the video there. 

Catharsis. The video was so little compared to the rest of their life, but it made Vinny feel relaxed. That itch, that inescapable urge to film, film film, forgotten when he had to take care of his dog. Evan.

Evan, beside him, leans closer to him. Their shoulders touch, then Evan’s laying down in his lap. His head rests on Vinny’s thigh. His face is pointed towards Vinny. Despite his agitation before he’s lost all of his harshness. Soft posture and soft expression. Vinny doesn't have to suppress his thoughts, now. He can look at Evan’s short cropped hair (messy, choppy because Vinny’s no hairdresser) and run his fingers through it without feeling weird. He can look at Evan’s shut eyes, how his brows aren't furrowed right now and he seems relaxed. 

He is relaxed. Evan’s breathing slowly, calmly, taking the touches like they aren't an issue. His hair is soft, his lips are curled into the prettiest smile. Vinny would give anything to spend hours like this, but he has questions. His curiosity won’t ever be sated now that Evan can talk to him. 

“Evan?” He tries, fingers stopping at the base of Evan’s skull. The hair there is soft, tufted; when Vinny dips his fingers into that portion of hair Evan sighs contently. Evan looks up at him with curious eyes just barely cracked open, making a little _mrrh?_ noise. He hasn’t lost his dog self yet.

“Did you like being a dog?” A thick silence between them, for longer than Vinny would like. Evan bites his lips and looks away. Eventually, he speaks, sounding borderline wistful.

“It was.” He grunts, visibly struggling to put words together. “Simple. Just- I just had to eat and play and make you happy.” He laughs, quietly. Solemn. “I don't think I was good at it. You always- always, were in your bed or upset somehow. Sad. Sad. Like you couldn't, like- fuck, what's the word? Depressed? I didn't _understand_ why you were sad, but I knew you liked it when I- I,” He gestures loosely down at himself. “When I laid with you. My master-” A grunt. He keeps talking, even though Vinny can see the frustration in his eyes at his Freudian slip. “Vvv- Vinny was, important to me. I don't know if I liked it, though. It was just. Simple. I wasn't angry or upset for long about anything. Always had food and my- fuck- I had you. Even when my fingers, teeth were taken? I didn't care. Had you.” 

“You still have me.” Vinny murmurs, running his fingers again through Evan’s hair. His other hand moves to run over Evan’s chest. It’s halfway between an intimate gesture and how he used to pet Evan when they were playing; Evan doesn’t complain, instead actually pushing his chest up into the touch despite saying the petting was over earlier. 

“I know. I just- I didn’t, I didn’t remember Jeff or Steph or Alex or any of them. Just you.” A beat of silence. He presses his face harder into Vinny’s thighs. “Just you. I didn’t even know your fucking _name_ until HABIT- HABIT brought me back, for that few minutes? Before the teeth, right? I just... I didn’t want to forget your name.” His smile curls sweetly. “I didn’t after that. You were still- still, master, but I knew you were Vinny. I didn’t even know my own name. Didn’t care.” 

“I called you Evan and you’d come, though.” Vinny keeps petting. Evan’s chest is strong under his hand, hard bone and hard muscle disguised barely beneath the tight shirt. His chest rises reliably. He’s alive, he’s safe.

Evan laughs like Vinny doesn’t understand. “I just heard your tone. It was- it was a lot of tone. What you said never made sense, just sounded like, like _noise_. I knew- what did I know? Rrrmm. _No_ , _come_. _Good boy_. Simple stuff. I knew, I knew you liked the noises- the talking, I mean. You were always talking to me or the black box. No, shit, the camera. So I’d just go along with it.” It makes sense, really. Evan would bark or _mrrh_ at him when he talked but never seemed to get anything he said. 

Vinny tilts his head, a little. He understands what he felt, but Evan... surely a dog sees things much differently, beyond the language barrier. “What did you understand? What made sense?”

Evan sinks his teeth into his lip for a few moments before he replies. His voice is more sure, now, but still isn’t quite how it was before. “You. Master. I knew you didn’t want to hurt me. You were caring. I knew- I knew the monster, HABIT? I hated it. I hated when it’d touch you or try to break you or cut you up. I hated.” A breath out. Evan blinks rapidly, brows drawing downward. “I hated eating you. It made me- you remember. Do you?”

Vinny does. The bursting of his intestines, the disconnected feeling of his guts hanging from him. The empty feeling as he saw, felt, Evan’s face being pushed into it. Vinny can’t talk about that, couldn’t manage to verbalize it, so he just nods. He feels his chest tightening and his heart beginning to beat faster and faster and Evan just frowns.

“You , man. It- you were decorations, man, you were- like, fuck! _Fuck!_ You stopped moving and I knew why but I couldn’t stand it, losing you. You’re- you’re the most, important thing I have. All I have left. It _slaughtered_ you and then you just healed after it left and acted like it was no big thing.” Evan’s agitated, now. Vinny forgets himself for a moment and begins petting Evan proper; hand running down his head, over and over, a compulsion for comfort.

It seems Evan gets him, because he shifts to lay like he used to. Legs tucked to the side, head still on Vinny’s lap, hands resting on one of Vinny’s thighs. Patient as Vinny runs his hand down the length of that broad back. Vinny doesn’t talk for a while, not until the pounding in his chest has gone down to a gentle thrum. On his lap Evan rumbles gently from his chest. Comforting.

Silence reigns again. Vinny doesn’t want to talk about it; Evan doesn’t want to agitate his friend any further. The silence, though, is calm. Vinny’s petting his dog, his friend, the only person that Vinny has left. Evan’s eyes are shut and his mouth is just slightly open, calm. 

They’re altered far too much to ever call themselves normal. Vinny and Evan, a man and his dog, two traumatized men so much closer than they were before. Unsure of the future but sure that they’ll always be there for each other in some manner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lucky number thirteen, baby! i want to thank you who’re here for reading this far. i’ve had a blast with this fic, since it’s a concept i haven’t explored before- a man and his dog, albeit his dog being his human friend. while this chapter was a lot of talking, i wanted them to use their chance to speak on an equal level. 
> 
> i may or may not have further one-shots or other writing in this little au-verse. if i do, i’ll make a new fic and put them all there, and make a series group for this verse.
> 
> some research sources, edited 11/5/18 to actually work:
> 
> https://moderndogmagazine.com/articles/how-read-your-dogs-body-language/415 dog body language
> 
> https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=gRLQga4h0Y4 how to feed an almost toothless greyhound
> 
> http://www.vivo.colostate.edu/hbooks/pathphys/digestion/pregastric/dogpage.html dental anatomy of dog (lost my initial source, i believe - this is sufficient)
> 
> https://www.cuteness.com/blog/content/what-to-feed-a-dog-with-no-teeth what to feed a dog with no teeth (likely my initial source? i don't remember)


End file.
